


First Impressions

by FancyNewWeasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyNewWeasley/pseuds/FancyNewWeasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The progression of Rose and Scorpius's relationship from their first unfortunate meeting on the Hogwarts Express through years of bickering, pseudo-friendship, sexual tension, more bickering and possibly something real. And yes, the title is a cheesy reference to "Pride and Prejudice."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Train Rides, Train Wrecks, and the Sorting Hat

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this so long ago and recently was inspired to rewrite it a bit and post it here! 
> 
> Plus, visual companion! http://fancynewweasley.tumblr.com/tagged/next%20gen%20fancast
> 
> FYI, Hutch is a nickname for Hugo that I think is adorable, hence it's appearance here.

I probably looked ridiculous, standing on the train platform, blinking rapidly to stop myself from crying _._ I was not going to cry! I was strong. And I was prepared! And I was…crying, ok I was crying now.

Saying goodbye to the family was proving to be much harder than I had expected. And silly really! I’ve been waiting for Hogwarts my entire life. I was finally get to learn how to practice magic and see what everyone’s been talking about all these years. It'll be amazing. I know it will. I was only realizing now though how strange it will be to live away from Mum and Dad and even Hutch.

Not playing chess with Dad in the evenings, pretending not to notice when he let me win. Not swapping books and drinking tea with Mum. Hutch and I didn't have much in common at the moment, but he _can_ be a sweetheart sometimes.

My mother hugged me tight and sighed. "Oh Rose, this day came so fast. We’re so proud of you," she said, her own eyes welling up. It was easy to see where I got my quick tears. Not to mention Grandma Molly. I was born to be a crier.

My dad pulled me in for a long hug as well.

“Dad, let me go! You’re squeezing me to death,” I said, muffled in his sweater.

“I gotta give you a big long hug so you don’t need to hug any boys while you’re at school,” he teased.

I made a noise of protest, but held on. There was nowhere safer than my dad’s arms and I didn’t want to break the hug either.

Hutch looked frustrated. He was jealous I that I got to go to Hogwarts and would surely miss me, but he’d never say it out loud.

Lily looked straight-up angry and her arms remained at her side while I gave her a big hug. "Lil, I'll write you all the time, I promise!"  She continued to pout. "Don't worry, you'll be on that train in no time," I said.

With one last wave to my family, I hopped on the train, waiting for Albus, who was still saying goodbye to Uncle Harry. Thank goodness I had Al, or I would _really_ be nervous.

Once he joined me, we split up to look for Frank. Al, Frank Longbottom, and I had been inseparable since birth, and I planned on it staying that way. Amongst my worries concerning Hogwarts was the monumental fear of us being split up. Merlin forbid Al and Frank were Sorted into the same House without me.

Before I could even start to look for Frank, two girls approached me, looking at me with strange expressions. They were older, one was tall and glamorous with a haughty expression and the other had a blonde pixie cut and a pointy face.

"You're Rose Weasley," the tall one said. It wasn't a question and it wasn't polite.

"Um, yeah." I said awkwardly. I didn't know what else to say. Wizards approached my parents occasionally, but they sheltered Hutch and I from as much of that as they could.

"We've read all about your family of course,” the pixie cut girl said.

"Oh?" I replied, still very uncomfortable.

"You’re basically famous, but you don’t look like it much,” the tall one said, flicking her hair.

"Yeah, Marjorie and I could help you out, if you wanted," Pixie Cut said. "We could get your hair a few thinning potions and shine serum, something other than this Muggle look you have going on—”

“—And shape your brows,” Marjorie interjected.

Pixie Cut was condescendingly talking about what make-up I could benefit from while I stood still, frozen in shock. How could anyone actually speak to another person like this? Did they expect they were doing me some favor? You’re supposed to look like a Muggle, it's a Muggle train station! Not to mention, I rather liked this sweater.

I tried to interrupt, but was hastily shut down.

“It’s just that people at Hogwarts will expect you to be, well, more! Being the child of the most famous couple in Britain and your cousins having set an incredibly high standard and all,” Marjorie said.

“Victorie Weasley is the prettiest girl at Hogwarts—“

“—And Fred and Louis are arguably the fittest boys. And those are just the top tier. Even some of your plainer cousins are hot commodities.” They said this like they thought they were being complimentary.

Utter disgust had me paralyzed. Victorie had mentioned people gawking a bit, and James certainly garnered a lot of attention last year as Harry Potter’s son entered Hogwarts, but I had no idea people would actually behave so hideously. Talking about my family like they were collectible items and judging me not two steps onto the train? Is this what Hogwarts would be like?

I couldn't think of anything to say. I wished I was quicker and wittier in the moment, but I was tongue tied by nerves. As I tried to squeak out something coherent, a tall, blonde boy invaded our circle. "Excuse me, why don’t you two lay off her, alright? You’re being very rude.”

I recognized him immediately. Draco Malfoy's son. Dad had pointed him out on the platform. A Malfoy, siding with me? What was this?

“We were trying to be _helpful,_ and friendly,” Pixie Cut said.

“You weren’t being helpful. You were being mean and condescending and nosy.”

This was met with sneering from the girls. The sneer really is a terribly unpleasant expression. "And this is coming from a Malfoy?” Marjorie said. “Your family wrote the book on condescending."

"Right, we did, so you won't mind if I tell you to run along now?" Scorpius said in a patronizing tone that made even me feel a little inferior.

The girls tried to cover up their defeat with glares and haughty scoffs, but they scurried away nonetheless.

Scorpius turned his attention to me now. He looked a little uncomfortable, like he might have regretted stepping in as he did. He was taller than me, and I'm pretty tall for my age, and paler, which was also saying something because I'm nearly the palest person in the family. He had blonde hair that was combed neatly to the side and had the air of someone well-cared for.

His eyes were perplexing. They were a pale aqua, with the exception of a thin rim of dark blue around the outside of the pupil. They were astonishing, certainly, but unsettling. The pale face and the pale hair and those pale eyes that were boring into me. Blimey, here I was vividly analyzing his eyes while he was waiting for me to say something.

"Thank you for that!" I said. I sounded a little out of breath. I didn’t want to be having a conversation alone with this guy, and frankly he scared me a bit. “Honestly, such a surprise, but thank you.”

"Why a surprise?" Scorpius asked, his face immediately darkening and growing defensive.

"Well, you know," I smiled awkwardly. He had to realize why this was strange. "You're the last person I would expect to come to my rescue."

Our families were natural enemies, like the eagle and the snake. Or like some blonde animal that’s incredibly wealthy with evil tendencies versus a ginger underdog animal that breeds a lot and occasionally saves the world. Was that too biased?

I tried to smile in a friendly way, but he seemed to be getting the wrong impression. "Not that you shouldn't have! I appreciate it, it's just surprising that someone like you would be the first to jump to my defense." I was aware I was talking too much and making it worse, but somehow couldn't stop. Generally, I think everything through carefully, then the second I get a little nervous my brain shuts off. I was still talking! What was I even saying? "I mean, Draco Malfoy's son? I never would have thought—"

"That what? I'm an actual human being?" Despite the harsh tone in his voice, his face was blank, all emotion concealed.

Alright, so I may have jumped to conclusions about him. But how could you blame me? His family's reputation!

"I only meant that…I mean my parents have talked about your dad before, and no offense, but he sounded like a bit of a bully." I was steering this conversation right off a cliff. But my parents _had_ told me stories and my dad was never very forgiving towards Draco.

"A bully? He was a bloody Death Eater," he said, laughing bitterly. "But he isn't like that now."

This was the most emotionally draining five minutes of my life. First, I leave my family behind to embark on this journey, only to be pounced on by two ridiculous, shallow girls who blatantly insult me. Then, this person comes to my rescue, and within fifteen seconds of our conversation, he's turned against me. Brilliant.

"You of all people should know that kids don't equal their parents,” he was saying. “I am not my father. I thought the daughter of two very famous wizards might get that." He almost turned to leave but instead said, "But I suppose you enjoy all the attention? Do people say you've got your mother's brains and your father's courage? Let me remind you that you aren't your parents either."

Ok, mate, you don't know me.

"Being surprised that the son of Draco Malfoy—former _Death_ _Eater_ —helped me—a half-blood and a Weasley—doesn't make me some kind of judgmental monster. It's not as if I assumed you were evil. I was surprised, that's all! It's a perfectly reasonable assumption to make! I know I'm not my parents and I would have accepted that you weren't yours, until you went off like that! Reacting like that is only going to reinforce your reputation.”

" _I_ don’t have a reputation, my father does. Anyways, I couldn't care less what you think of me. In the future I'll know not to associate with you people—"

So that's how it was going to be.

"Not because you're Weasleys, or half-bloods or whatever, but because you're arrogant—"

"Oh _I'm_ arrogant?"

"Presumptuous, judgmental—"

"You talk about judging people based on their family, and here you are judging my family based on your own impression of me! You hypocrite!" I said, poking him on the chest. He swatted my hand away. I glared at him, my chin jutted out. But he _was_ pretty intimidating and I wasn’t sure I’d last long in a staring contest.

He stood utterly still, looking at me as if I was an errant toad that had the nerve to leap onto his dinner plate. I was used to family quarrels and arguments with the cousins, but this kid was unlike anyone I had ever met and I had no idea how to handle him. Before I could shrink away, he stormed off, but not without shooting me one last glare, dripping with disgust.

Al was approaching as Malfoy strode away. "Rose, was that the Malfoy kid? You're picking fights already, schools not even started yet!" he chuckled.

"Yes, I've made a friend," I said crankily, stomping through the halls. My beautiful first train ride was tarnished.

"What happened?" he asked, gesturing towards the compartment where Frank was waiting.

"Oh I've just been having a lovely chat with young Master Malfoy. Spoke with the bloke for two seconds and he gets all offended," I said, rolling my eyes and bursting into our compartment.

I explained the whole situation very thoroughly to Frank and Al, who almost immediately lost interest. I was ready to dissect this whole interaction for the rest of the train ride but they somehow didn’t seem as enthralled as they should be.

"So, Frank," Al rudely interjected in the middle of my in-depth breakdown, "what House you hoping for?"

I rolled my eyes again. He was trying to change the subject; we all obviously knew what House we wanted. Frank responded with the answer I already knew and I huffed. Jerks.

"Fine, I’ll shut up. But I can’t understand why you guys aren’t worked up about this," I said, rummaging around in my bag and pulling out a book. Mum had given me a pile of books (both Muggle and magical) to satisfy me until winter holidays. I was currently in the middle of _To Kill a Mockingbird._

But I couldn't concentrate on Scout and the gang. Malfoy was nagging at the back of my brain. I hated the idea that someone hated me. It made me extraordinarily uncomfortable. I had flaws, yeah, but who didn't?

Maybe I was a little bossy. Not around the older cousins, but with Al and the younger ones. So? Someone had to take charge. It's been said that my need to always be right was unattractive. But I honestly think that’s just because I usually _am_ right. I bet if the occasion ever arose where I was wrong, I would be gracious about it.

I was like my Mum in a lot of ways. People were always saying so. We shared a love of reading and learning and striving to be the best. I was sensible and mature, or as some of my other cousins might say, a boring rule-follower. I had inherited her incredibly thick and bushy hair, but mine was auburn, on the borderline of ginger.

I was like my dad too though, more than anyone seemed to notice. I was blessed with the fair Weasley complexion— freckles and all. I was a ferocious blusher. I was a little clumsy. Tragically, my lack of coordination prevented me from cultivating a talent for Quidditch, but I was an ardent fan. I could be considered lazy and a bit of a procrastinator. Dad and I bonded over finding different ways to waste time.

I tried to stop thinking about them though. I didn't need any more emotional stimulation, as we were already careening towards one of the most important moments of my life.

* * *

We pulled into Hogsmeade and things were suddenly chaotic. There were people everywhere, shoving and shouting and rushing around. I caught a glimpse of my cousins Fred and Louis, the aforementioned Fittest Boys in School, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers. They were a formidable pair and quite the heartthrobs—Fred with his perfect, dark skin and humble smile and Louis with his confidence, charisma, and Muggle movie star good looks. 

Before I could spot any more of my family, I was beckoned by Albus to follow the booming voice of Hagrid. He beamed at the sight of us all. His eyes were predictably tearing up and he whimpered, "I remember when yer parents were 'ere. Both yer parents met on the firs' day o' Hogwarts, isn’t tha’ right?" he said to Al and I.

We nodded. Aunt Ginny loved to tell the story of how she won Uncle Harry over in a simple six-year plan. The only person I met on the train was bloody Malfoy and those awful girls.

Frank, Al, and I climbed into the boats with another small first year. I sat perfectly still the whole way across the lake. Knowing me, I’d shift in my seat and capsize the whole boat. I saw Malfoy in a boat not far from us. He looked even paler in the moonlight and his eyes were fixed on the castle. I turned my own eyes to the spectacular view.

The sight of the castle looming over us smacked me right in the heart. In just a few moments, I would be _sorted_. Hadn't it been a few days ago Al and I were talking about how Hogwarts was ages away?

I had no idea where I would be sorted, but felt confident it wouldn't be Slytherin. I wasn't the least bit cunning and, at the moment, lacked any significant ambitions. Two members of the family had been sorted into Slytherin so far—Louis and Uncle Percy's daughter, Lucy. I didn't anticipate I would be joining them.

Ravenclaw seemed possible. I wasn't a genius like Mum, but I was smart enough and eager to learn. Hufflepuff seemed even more likely, as I was generally loyal, friendly, and a people pleaser. Either House could suit me.

It was Gryffindor I wanted though. Of course it was what I wanted, it was practically in my blood. But I wasn't exactly a daring person. You'll typically find me looking before I leap. As I weighed my options, the anticipation built to nearly unbearable levels. 

* * *

"Malfoy, Scorpius!" Neville (sorry, I mean Professor Longbottom) called, his eyebrow arched in interest. I looked up from where I had been zoning out as he approached the stool. He sat with the Hat on for a while, longer than anyone else yet, and looked as shocked as I was when the Hat cried, "RAVENCLAW."

So, it was a free for all. People were being sorted willy nilly— totally unpredictable!

I was wringing my hands and trying to speak words of encouragement to Al, but neither of us were paying attention to what I was saying.

“Potter, Albus,” Neville said (sorry, I mean Professor Longbottom), a grin threatening to stretch across his face and reveal his affection. I gave Al a shove forward when he didn't move and he stumbled up to the Hat.

The Hat was placed on his head. There was a pause, and then, “GRYFFINDOR!”

I jumped in excitement, cheering as Al ran to join Frank at the Gryffindor table, but the dread began to creep in. On one hand, I was proud and truly glad for Al. On the other hand, if I don’t get Gryffindor too, my whole life was going to collapse and cave in on itself, but whatever. I won’t get Gryffindor, and I won’t make any new friends and Al and Frank will forget about me and the emotional toll will cause me to fail my classes and they'll kick me out and I'll never learn magic and my family will reject me and I'll live a miserable hermit-Squib life. It's cool though.

"Weasley, Rose!"

Heavens to Merlin, I may fall over where I stand. I walked up to the Hat gingerly, as if each step I took would break a hole in the floor. Be graceful. Don't fall!

I took deep, soothing breaths as Neville placed the Hat on me. Then a voice was in my head.

"Hmm, yes. Fiercely loyal, you’d do anything for your loved ones," the Hat mused.

Hufflepuff. It was going to be Hufflepuff. I couldn’t stop disappointment from descending like a cloud.

"Ah, not interested in Hufflepuff?" the Hat asked.

“Hufflepuff is a great House,” I thought. It was exceedingly strange, thinking a conversation. “I want to be where I belong, so if that’s where I belong that’s what I want.”

“Now, I never said that,” the Hat said, “I’m not finished. You have fire in you. Tenacity. Courage, though you don’t realize it. Desire for excellence, even glory.” He paused. “Gryffindor House would value you… and I suspect it’ll help you grow as well…GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat announced.

"Oh my goodness!" I exclaimed.

The Hat saw something in me I couldn’t see myself, was this a fantasy? Don't cry! Not now! Save it, Weasley. The last thing I needed was to start sobbing right here on the stool in front of everyone. 

Neville patted me on the shoulder and I got up and scampered over to my new Housemates. I was greeted with all kinds of congratulations as I sat down next to Frank.

During the feast, (Oh how I needed this feast. I hadn't eaten in hours and it was only aiding my emotional turmoil) I became acquainted with one of the other new Gryffindors, Andie, a peppy blonde girl. She seemed nice and funny and it felt good to know I might have a friend in my dormitory.

The wonders of food and friends staunched my anxiety and squelched my fears. I had someone it seemed like I could be friends with and my best guys in my House. I'd likely see little of Scorpius Malfoy anyways, so who cared what he thought?

Headmaster Dunn stood and the Hall quieted.

"Welcome, students! It’s shaping up to be another great year here at Hogwarts," he said in a cheerful Scottish accent. He was relatively young for a Headmaster and had light brown hair and a pleasant expression. "First years, congratulations. We're all so excited to have you here.” After his speech, he dismissed us to our dormitories and we began trotting after the prefects.

As we exited the Great Hall, I realized we had lost Al.

"Frank, where'd Al go?" We scanned the masses exiting the Hall, until Frank pointed at a kid by the Ravenclaw table. He had the appropriately messy black hair, but was talking to Scorpius Malfoy, and therefore couldn’t be my cousin.

“Rose,” Frank whined. “Just drop it.”

I moved towards them anyways, confused. It was indeed Al and Scorpius, cordially chatting. Awkward.

"Al, everyone's heading back to their common rooms," I said gently, ignoring Malfoy. "You don't want to get lost."

Malfoy avoided me as well, simply saying it had been nice to meet Al and he would see him around. He shot me one sharp look before striding away.

"What was that? _What was that?_ " I asked, swatting Al on the arm.

"I was just introducing myself," he said casually.

" _Why_? Didn't you hear anything I said earlier?”

"You’re not gonna get it, but I thought… I know what it’s like to be judged based on your parents and to have people expect…I wanted to say hi, that’s all,” he said, running his hands through his hair and making it look even more unkempt. “He's not going to be my best friend, ok? I simply introduced myself. I promise, I will never love him more than I love you," he said with a smile, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, Merlin. If there is ever a day where I have to compete with Malfoy for your affection, I may have to dive into a Devil's Snare.”

He laughed. "What's a Devil's Snare?"

"You haven't read your Herbology textbook yet?" I said.

"Uh, did you?"

"The first fifteen chapters or so," I shrugged. "I can't disappoint Neville. I mean, Professor Longbottom," I corrected.

* * *

The girls in my dormitory seemed nice enough, though I think we were all a little self-conscious. Kristen, a pretty black girl with tight curls was a Muggle-born from London. There was a thin blonde named Charlotte who had an aristocratic air about her. And a Scottish girl named Jade, who was frecklier than me, but with silky dark hair.

As we unpacked our trunks, I relayed to Andie the incident with Malfoy.

"Oh, Scorpius? My dad knows his dad, his family came over for dinner once."

I pressed her for details and she didn't disappoint.

"Well, his dad's very formal, kind of serious, but he loosened up after a while. His mum's great. She's beautiful and funny, not at all how you'd imagine her, based on her husband and son. And she's totally into Muggle stuff, it’s adorable.”

I was surprised. There I go again, making assumptions. I've got to stop doing that. 

"Scorpius I only met once and he barely said a word to me. My brother got him talking about Quidditch. I'm really surprised he stood up for you; he seems really shy."

I was feeling very guilty at this point. He put himself out there and I cut him down. I 'stole his Snitch' as Dad would say.

He had also jumped to a quick conclusion though, hadn't he? He was waiting for even the tiniest sign of judgment. Oh well. I'd never talk to him again anyway.

I was exhausted, but I wanted to write my parents before I went to bed. My owl, Rigby, had been been waiting at the window when we came up. I said goodnight to the other girls and pulled out my favorite quill and some parchment.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_Hogwarts is brilliant! Absolutely gorgeous, like I knew it would be. It hasn’t sunk in that I'm actually here._

_Now ,for what you've been waiting for. Drum roll please... I’m a Gryffindor! I'm so happy. Al and Frank are Gryffindors too, thankfully. And it means Neville is my Head of House!_

_I think I've made a friend, this girl Andie, and_ _I've also made a bit of an enemy. I had the pleasure of meeting Draco Malfoy's son. Charming boy, and he absolutely adores me._

_Anyways, I'm bushed. I'll elaborate later. It's been a long day and I’m very cozy in my four poster in the Tower!_

_Love you say hi to Hutch for me,_

_Rose_

I also scribbled a quick note to Lily saying I was in Gryffindor and that I missed her already.

I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, snuggled into the perfect position, and immediately fell asleep.


	2. Life as A First Year

I spent the rest of my first year:

Getting lost.

Studying.

Avoiding Malfoy.

Fighting with Malfoy.

Getting into an argument with Malfoy in Potions which ended in knocking over cauldron, Marianne Marley's eyebrows searing off and me in detention with Malfoy.

Almost breaking down at the thought of being in detention.

_Actually_ breaking down in detention.

Hexing Malfoy for making fun of me breaking down in detention.

Getting another detention.

Falling down the stairs and getting stuck in a trick step.

Missing class because I was stuck in the stairs and the only person who came across me for an hour and a half was Peeves, who, as you can imagine, was no help.

Hanging out in the kitchens with Frank.

Rooting for James and Roxie at Quidditch tryouts.

Juggling comforting James when he didn't make the team with congratulating Roxie at being the new Seeker for Gryffindor.

Getting out of James's way when he went on a prank rampage.

Taking Malfoy's insults to heart and avoiding everyone in a self-loathing fit.

Getting jinxed because Albus was sick of my self-loathing fit.

Earning top marks in my year.

Frantically competing with Malfoy to stay at the top of the class.

Finding a secret passageway with Andie, Frank and Al.

Drinking tea with Hagrid and Professor Longbottom.

Being called "Miss Granger" by Professor Flitwick more often then not.

Missing home.

Loving Hogwarts.

 


	3. People That Do or Don't Take My Advice

I practically sprinted through the barrier of Platform 9 and ¾. Not that I didn't have a great summer. Oh no, it was brilliant. If you like being cooped up at the Burrow all summer sorting through your granny’s photo albums.

You'd think with a family like mine someone would always be hanging around, but this summer company had been scarce. Teddy and Victorie were busy with work and each other and never seemed to have time for anything else. Teddy was going through rigorous training to be a Curse Breaker and Victorie was working as an assistant to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Uncle Percy had Molly, Princess of Pranks and Uncle George’s protégé, on serious lockdown, as she was entering her N.E.W.T. year and had "skirted her responsibilities long enough". Lucy went on lockdown voluntarily, already freaking out about her upcoming O.W.L.s and redefining the word ‘overkill’.

The Potters were in Australia. Uncle Harry had a big Auror project there, so the whole family went along for most of the summer. I saw little of Frank, who was especially difficult to make plans with without Al around and had spent his summer cooped up at The Leaky Cauldron. Andie, aside from being on vacation in the Carribbean for a few weeks was also flakey and unavailable. I heard even Malfoy was abroad.

The point? I was bored and alone all summer while everyone else did something cool and needless to say I was happy to be going back to Hogwarts for my third year.

Second year had come and gone, largely uneventfully. It could be effectively summarized in two words: “awkward phases.”

After hugging my parents goodbye and promising to look after Hugo, I rushed over to where Andie was standing to ambush her with a big I-missed-having-friends hug. We strolled towards the train, chattering about our summers and the relief of getting back to Hogwarts.

“Wait,” she said, pausing, “I brought you this from Jamaica!” She was rummaging through her bag when I felt a hand snake around my waist. Being an easily startled person, I jumped in perhaps over-exaggerated surprise as my eyes followed the hand up an arm that was attached to none other than Scorpius Malfoy.

He was smirking and looking casual as ever, despite the fact that he was touching me, which could only mean he had recently undergone a lobotomy.

“Weasley, what a pleasure,” he said, his voice deeper and more sultry than I remembered it. Arm still wrapped around my waist, he leaned down, his free hand brushing under my chin and his mouth millimeters from my ear. I twitched. “Oh darling, you’re blushing,” he said, in mock affection. “I’m not making you flustered am I?”

My face receded into my neck. Dumbfounded, it was the only response I seemed capable of producing. I was frozen facing forward, but he was so close I could feel him smiling against my hair. “It’s going to be a very fun term,” he said teasingly, before swooping off again.

“Rose,” Andie said, waving her hand in front of my catatonic body. “Rose!”

Finally snapping out of it, I shook all over, like I was having some sort of seizure. “What the bloody hell was that? _Who_ the bloody hell was that? That—that _thing_ bore a slight resemblance to Scorpius Malfoy.”

“Slight for sure,” Andie said slinging her bag over her shoulder, her Jamaican trinket forgotten. “Suddenly the angstiest thirteen year old in the world is suddenly making innuendos towards his sworn nemesis?”

“Innuendos?” I said, blushing. “He was just trying to make me uncomfortable.”

“He looks so different too!” Andie said, brushing off my response. “I mean, his hair!”

Instead of platinum blonde hair slicked back, he had buzzed it all off. He was tanner, taller, and more toned. He used to be unilaterally pale, from his hair to his skin to his unsettlingly light eyes, but now he looked positively sun-kissed.

Still shocked, we boarded the train and joined Frank and Al in a compartment near the back. After quickly learning no one else cared about Malfoy’s transformation, I stared out the window and pored over this turn of events in silence. What could have provoked such a change and would it be permanent?

An hour or so into our journey, Lily and Hugo popped in to say hello. Lily, although two years younger, was always fun to confide in so I waved her over.

"Have you seen Scorpius Malfoy?" I asked.

"No, why? What's he done now?"

I explained the situation to her. "You’ve heard me describe him," I said. “He’s cold, arrogant, and brooding and then suddenly he shows up like this teasing, sexy—well not actually sexy, you know. Acting like he is.” I exhaled in disbelief. “His hair, too, he always wore it like his father, but now it’s buzzed. I wonder what motivated that,” I mumbled under my breath, more to myself than Lily.

“He always gets to you,” Lily said, grinning.

I scoffed. “As an objective observer I find it strange, that’s all!”

I slunk back into silence, determined not to say another word about Malfoy.

My curiosity was quickly satiated and before long I was longing for ignorance on the subject. For the first two months of the term, all I heard was how transformative Malfoy’s magical summer in Italy was. As I heard over and over, he met a girl who taught him about love and life, whatever that meant. He thought he was _so_ cultured and _so_ mature and everything out of his mouth was condescending and infuriating.

He was utterly insufferable and I was stuck sitting with him in half my classes. With the entertainment value of a partnership between the next generation Malfoy and Weasley and the competition between us that drove us both to excel, we were an irresistible pairing to our professors. This left me working alongside him in DADA, Charms and even Muggle Studies. That’s right, the son of Draco Malfoy and the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley learnt how to perform a Google search together.

One afternoon in Charms, he was giving me a particularly annoying lecture on not letting petty and trivial things get to me when I snapped.

“Malfoy, please shut up! For the love of Merlin, what happened to you in Italy?”

He sighed patronizingly. “Oh, Weasley. I couldn’t begin to articulate my experience. I can only say I became a man. Lucrezia taught me not to waste my life brooding and to embrace everything that comes my way.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I actually got a headache. “I never thought I’d miss the cold Malfoy but here I am.”

“You’d rather have me unhappy? Weasley, honestly, you ought to consider rethinking your life as well.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to write to Lucrezia and get some advice.”

“Trust me, Lucrezia’s wisdom could not be conveyed via letter.”

I scrunched my face in disgust.

* * *

 

“So, what are we assuming happened with that girl in Italy?” I asked the group at dinner later that evening.

“The implication is something sexual,” said Al, taking a hefty bite of potatoes.

“Ewwwwwww,” I groaned. “Merlin, have mercy. He's thirteen! How old was this girl?”

“I dunno. Older,” Al said with his mouth full. “He’s not said anything explicitly, but he's certainly making it sound that way.”

“Yeah, I forgot you guys are such great pals and you chat all the time,” I said.

“We’re not great pals, we’re cordial. We run Quidditch drills sometimes.”

“Yeah, did you hear about the profile _The Daily Prophet_ is writing on this epic friendship?” Frank said.

I laughed but Frank clarified that he wasn’t joking. “Wait, what?” Andie asked, mirroring my confusion.

“It’s _not_ happening. But some reporter did ask us to do an interview when they heard that we were kind of friends. Something about tolerance across families and Houses and history. We obviously turned him down.”

“Bloody hell, Al,” I groaned.

Al, our professors, and the entire female population of Hogwarts all seemed to be enamored with Malfoy. Was I the only one who found him intolerable?

* * *

I ventured out by the lake one Thursday afternoon, pausing from my mountain of schoolwork. My course load had significantly intensified this year and I was working harder than ever to maintain my increasingly slight lead on Malfoy, who seemed like he never even had to pick up a book.

As I contemplated heading back in to take a nap, my eyes found my cousin Fred, lounging under a large tree and looking forlorn. I furrowed my brow. It was unusual for Fred to look morose and even more so for him to be sitting alone. He usually had a flock of people around him, but now he twisting a piece of string around his finger and staring into space, not an admirer in sight.

Should I nap or investigate what was up with Fred? I pondered this question for a good while before getting up and shuffling over to my cousin.

"Hey, Freddie.” There was no one in the vicinity but I spoke softly anyway. He looked up in surprise and gave me a small smile. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

"Rosie, how do you always know? Damn your intuition,” he chuckled.

“While it is true that I have nearly psychic levels of intuition, to be honest, you weren’t hiding it very well.”

He scoffed and I smiled and nudged him. “Oh alright,” he groaned. “You know Chrissie, of course?” he asked.

I nodded. Chrissie was a whip-smart Muggleborn that Fred and Louis befriended on the train first year. The three of them were the picture of inter-House friendship: Fred was a classic Hufflepuff—dependable, likeable, humble, Chrissie was a sharp and independent Ravenclaw, and Louis was a Slytherin and not one to let anything stand in his way.

Fred continued. "She and Louis hooked up over the weekend.”

“Like, they snogged? Or, you know, _shagged_ ,” I whispered the word. I was perfectly aware these things happened but didn’t really want to discuss it, particularly when it involved my cousin.

“Just snogged! Merlin, Rose, you’re too young to be talking about that!” I rolled my eyes and waved him on. “No, they didn’t shag but I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time. The thing is, it’s only physical, I’m pretty sure neither of them like each other. Or, at least, I’m sure Louis doesn’t like her. Chrissie plays her cards close to the chest, it’s hard to tell what she’s feeling.”

“So, are you uncomfortable because they’re your best mates and it’d be weird for you if they started sleeping together or because _you_ have feelings for her?”

He paused. “I don’t know. I didn’t think so until this happened…but if I’m being honest now I’m not so sure.”

“Look,” I said straightforwardly. “I love Louis. He’s a great time and he’s handsome and all. But I think Chrissie would know better than to like him. Bless him, he’s a total slag and he’ll drop her flat in a few weeks. You’re the obvious catch here.” Fred managed to be equally cool and caring, a delicate balance. Although, he could do with not being so obsequious.

“She can handle herself,” he said, “I don’t see her letting herself get dropped flat.”

"Well, here are your options. You say nothing and allow them to proceed. You tell Louis your reservations, in which case he’ll certainly back off. He’d do anything for you _and_ he’d refrain from doing anyone for you. Or you could go straight to Chrissie and tell her you might have feelings for her. That gives her the choice, but it’s high risk.”

He stared blankly for a while. “Hmm.” The pause continued. “I wish I had more time to sort out what I wanted exactly. Chrissie’s always been just a friend to us and now suddenly the barrier has been broken. I don’t want to like her just because Louis made a move.”

I murmured in agreement. I left him to his thoughts, insisting he keep me updated and heading back to the castle with a parting look of sympathy in his direction.

Everyone seemed to be getting on the dating train this year. Charlotte was dating a Slytherin fourth year and fellow Gryffindor Garrett Bowen asked Andie out to the next Hogsmeade. My cousins Victorie, Lucy and Molly all had serious boyfriends and Dom and Roxie had a gaggle of fanboys to choose from.

Malfoy seemed to have a new girl on his arm every week too; I don't even know where he finds them.

I was sitting in the Great Hall eating lunch the following week when he slid up next to me.

"I will generously grant you five seconds to leave before I hex your arse, Malfoy," I said, not even looking up from my sandwich.

"Wait a second there, Red,” he said, holding his hands up as if to suggest surrender. He looked so pleased with himself, lounging casually with his collar undone and tie loose. He had obviously intentionally ruffled himself up to look cool. It’s all contrived, people! "I come in peace," he said. "Actually, I come seeking advice."

"Excuse me?" I gave him a look of utter disbelief.

"You're the only one who's opinion I can safely trust in this matter,” he said straightforwardly, though the shadow of a sly grin was etched on his face.

“Well, that’s a mistake, but continue,” I said, flummoxed but intrigued. 

"As you likely have noticed, I've become quite popular with the female population of Hogwarts. I turn to you because any one of them would surely say whatever they thought would give them a shot at me, rather than simply the best advice." I made a dramatic show of rolling my eyes and making a “gah” sound. "With you, I can be certain your own interests aren’t an issue. Because, correct me if I am wrong, you do not envision yourself in a relationship with me?" 

And that was the first time Scorpius Malfoy and I laughed together.

"Okay, dummy. I’ll listen to you, even though your plan is greatly flawed in that you fail to factor in my extreme dislike towards you, which could easily motivate me to give you awful advice.”

“Aw, you said extreme dislike and not hate! Sweet. Anyway, on to business. Marianne and Antonia, the Ravenclaw girls in our year, have been hanging out with Cameron and I a lot recently.”

Scorpius's best friend, Cam Wright, was also a Ravenclaw and only slightly more tolerable than Malfoy. I had in fact noticed they were spending a lot of time with Marianne Marley and Antonia Floyd, mostly because I found it strange that Marianne forgave Malfoy for burning her eyebrows off first year but has never been the same towards me.

Malfoy continued. "I have it on good authority that they both fancy me. Unsurprising, but complicated. Lovely as Marianne is, I’m not interested at all. Antonia on the other hand, is fit as hell. But how do I go out with her without upsetting Marianne?”

Seriously _, what_ is going on with the love connections?

"Okay, I’ll tell you what I think, only because I don’t want to see you screw these girls over.”

"Oh, I only had plans to screw _one_ of them," he said with a sly grin.

I yelped in disgust. "Stop or I don't give you my opinion!" He motioned zipping his mouth closed. "I think you should avoid asking out Antonia. It’s not going to last and will inevitably ruin your friendships with both girls. Not to mention their relationship with each other. It isn’t worth it."

"Why would her friendship with Marianne be ruined? I'm the jerk in this situation."

"Yes, you’re always the jerk. But girls will always turn against their friend before the guy they like. It's stupid, but it's what happens,” I said, disapprovingly.

"Hmm. So you say no?" 

"If you value their friendships at all, then no. Now get away from me," I said shoving him.

"So sweet," he said, walking away backwards and blowing me a kiss.

I caught it and very carefully crushed it with my fingers and then mimed throwing it on the floor.

As Malfoy strode away, Jake Thomas hurried into the Great Hall over to where I was seated. “Ready?” he asked, motioning towards the door. Jake was the handsome and burly son of our parents’ school friend Dean Thomas and James’s closest mate.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, stuffing a last piece of toast in my mouth, grabbing my bag and following him out.

As we exited the castle, we were hit by a gust of icy wind. I jumped at the cold and Jake put his arm around me, rubbing my shoulders to warm me up. I blushed and sputtered. I had always sort of had a crush on Jake and sometimes couldn’t handle physical affection from him. Al and Andie soon joined us, relieving me of the pressure of one-on-one time with him.

It was tryouts today, and James was attempting to make the Gryffindor team, again. As James would be quick to justify, he had always played Seeker, but switched to Chasing in his second year, when Roxie nabbed the Seeker spot on the team.

That had been quite the episode. James was furious with Roxie, whom he felt had poached his spot, seeing as she didn’t usually play Seeker. Unfortunately, Roxie was simply an exceptionally gifted player who had a good handle on all the positions, while James struggled to master those outside of Seeker.

We were all going to support him at the tryouts, even though he’ll be humiliated if he doesn't make it. But James loves attention more than he hates losing, so we would be there.

“He’ll make it though, right?” Andie said, as we trudged out to the pitch, our breath visible in front of us.

“I think so, he’s been practicing non-stop. It’ll just depend on whether or not the competition has been preparing as fiercely.” The competition was primarily Amelia Butler, who had been the alternate last year. James had a chance of edging her out though; she was a fairly inconsistent player.

“He just needs to be more aggressive going after the Quaffle instead of shying away. He’s such an assertive person, you would think he wouldn’t have a problem with that,” I said as we took our seats in the stands.

“Ready to cheerlead?” Jake asked. Hanging out with him was fun because he could make and understand Muggle references, unlike most of the other people in my social circle.

Just as a light drizzle began to sprinkle upon the pitch, Dominique came bounding up to us, out of breath and flushed. “Have I missed any—agh!” She slipped on the slick stands mid-sentence and made what looked to be a painful landing on her bum.

Uproarious laughter was heard in the lineup, and we followed the sound to Peter Longbottom down on the pitch. Frank’s older brother was trying out for Keeper, the other open position on the team this year.

Dom scowled, mumbled something and flicked her wand, causing Peter’s broom to go flying out from underneath him and dropping him a few feet to the ground.

She winced and asked, “Was that too harsh?” Peter, clearly sore, climbed back onto his broom, saluting Dom. She waved back apologetically.

Peter, the eldest of the four Longbottom children, was amiable, funny, and sweet. While they shared the same round face, he otherwise resembled Frank little—he had blonde hair to Frank’s mousy brown, gray eyes to Frank’s green. They had two younger sisters: Elizabeth, a Hufflepuff who was already beautiful at twelve, seemingly bypassing the awkward phase Frank had been lingering in for years, and blonde, cheerful, adorable Alice, who was not yet at Hogwarts.

After everything died down, we settled into watch the tryouts. Molly and her boyfriend and co-captain, Micah, observed from the sideline. He watched intently, she hollered, occasionally cheering or heckling the contenders. While I honestly could see Molly letting James join simply because he was her cousin, Micah took Quidditch more seriously than anything in the world, and would ensure the selection was the best for the team.

James was clearly intensely focused throughout, perhaps losing the spontaneity and improvisation that goes with playing Quidditch along the way, but making for a solid tryout altogether. That, coupled with the fact that Amelia again highlighted her inconsistency—making some spectacular moves along with some major blunders—pretty safely ensured the spot would go to James. Peter also did a great job, and would likely make the team as well.

A few days later, I was heading up the stairs to the dormitory around dusk when Molly came bounding down, results in hand. I followed with interest.

“Alright, folks!” she boomed, her loud voice always startling coming from such a small person. “Here it is, the official 2017 Gryffindor Quidditch team. To those of you who made the cut, you’re welcome. To those of you we unfortunately had to pass on, take it up with Micah, he’s the tosser to blame.” She slammed the list onto the bulletin board before ducking out of the portrait hole.

James leapt up from the table where he was bossing around a group on a Divination project and pushed through the gathering crowd. I saw his fist fly into the air in a triumphant punch, nearly knocking out a poor second year. We collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank bloody goodness,” Roxie said, slumping against the wall. “He literally refused to talk to me about Quidditch for two years. Although, I’m sure I’ll always shoulder the blame for his not making the team til fourth year.”

“Of course,” Dom said, laughing.

Peter approached us. “Well, ladies, I made the team!” We offered our congratulations. “Thanks for the kick in the arse, Dom, it was just what I needed,” Peter said, grinning.

Dom sniggered and shrugged. “I’m an excellent coach.”

* * *

 

I stood in front of Muggle Studies, with Jade Barnes, the closest friend I had in the class, discussing the previous night’s assignment and waiting for the Professor to arrive.

Malfoy came sauntering up, arm around a girl. Oh, but not any girl. Antonia, the beautifully biracial Ravenclaw I _just_ advised him not to date. He kissed her goodbye obnoxiously and gave her a flirtatious wave as she scampered off to her next class.

"What the hex, Malfoy?" This was a pun that only I found funny but would keep saying regardless.

He grinned lazily. "What? Oh, Antonia? Yeah, I ended up asking her out."

"Did you so adamantly seek my advice just so you could do the opposite?”

“No, I genuinely considered what you said. And I decided that, ultimately, their friendships weren’t that important to me.” He said this matter-of-factly, like he didn’t know or didn’t care that he sounded like a prick.

“Did you see Marianne's face?" She had not walked with the group as usual and was talking to another girl in the corner, glaring at Antonia as she passed.

"It'll be _fine_ , Weasley. Everyone makes such a big deal of things at first but it'll blow over. Plus, Marianne doesn't know I knew she liked me, so I'm not _really_ at fault."

I rebuffed that ridiculous statement. We bickered as Professor Knox let us into the classroom, continued on in hushed tones throughout her lecture on Muggle economics, and finally on the way to lunch I managed to walk away, exasperated and no further along than I was when we started arguing. Usually I can tell when trying to change someone’s perspective is pointless, but Malfoy is so idiotic and gets me so riled up, I can’t help myself.


	4. Yuletide Follies

For some reason I had thought fourth year would be a turning point. Fourth years had always seemed cool and mature. Fourth years were able to go to the Christmas Ball. Fourth years were halfway to graduation.

And yet, sitting there at the first feast of the year, I realized that nothing would be different. It’d be another year of the same people doing the same things. Andie and Frank were debating over whether or not Jeremiah Williamson was cute (Andie thought so, Frank was having none of it). James was teasing Al about something and Al was getting defensive. Roxie and Jake were discussing Qudditch tryouts, as Jake was planning on trying out for Beater this year. Dom was flirting with Sebastian Patrick. Everything was just like it always been.

The next day however, in Transfiguration, I was proven wrong. Professor Weber announced that he would let us choose our own partners for the month. This was new, as we were usually partnered with people from the other Houses. Inter-House unity was the great campaign of the professors in post-war Hogwarts.

Before I could ask Al, Andie, or Frank to be my partner, Oliver Breckenridge tapped me on the shoulder.

“I was wondering if I might request your hand…in project partnership,” he said jokingly. His delivery may have been a bit awkward, but there was something charming about the half-smile and raised eyebrows of the fellow Gryffindor’s expression. He was in my year, but wasn’t particularly close to my group, more likely to be found in the company of Charlotte, Garrett, and Kristen. He was nice enough though, and I wasn’t about to refuse him, so what choice did I have but to agree? I dejectedly gathered my books and bag and moved to sit beside him as I saw Al and Frank team up across the room. Weber would have us change partners in a month; I could manage that much.

He grinned as I sat down and said, "I’m embarrassed that we’re in the same House and the same year and we’ve never gotten to know each other. Not to mention, you are the smartest girl in our year so partnering with you does have its advantages."

I smiled awkwardly, pleased by the compliment but unsure if he had actually sought the partnership simply so that I would carry the team. He had a sincerity to him though, so I suggested we get to it and began reading the directions for our assignment.

Oliver was good-looking, I suppose. He was tall, with neatly combed brown hair, green eyes, and endearingly crooked teeth. He was skinny and lanky, but pleasant looking all the same. Anyway, he was one of the most popular boys in the year and loads of girls fancied him.

After class, as Andie and I made our way up to the Owlery, she excitedly demanded I explain everything.

"Honestly, I haven’t a clue what possessed him to ask me! I think he just wants a good grade in the class,” I said.

"I’ll bet he fancies you,” she said, with far more certainty than the situation could possibly warrant.

“Alright, park your hippogriff,” I said breathlessly, as we reached the top of the Owlery. “It was one lesson. You can hardly surmise that from one lesson!” I found Rigby and fed her a treat. She rustled her feathers appreciatively and offered her leg for me to remove the letter tied there.

“I just want you to promise you’ll be open to the possibility,” she said, giving me a pointed look. Andie was always trying to stir up romance for me, but things never fall in place for me like they do for her. She flirts as easily as she breathes, almost to the point where it’s impossible to know who she actually fancies, since she’s so affectionate with everyone.

“I promise nothing,” I said defiantly. Even if I did fancy Oliver, I would hardly say so seeing as I barely knew him and it was doubtful he would reciprocate.

* * *

The first busy weeks of term quickly turned into the first busy months of term and before I knew it, December was nearly upon us. With a challenging workload and a competitive Quidditch season (I may be just a spectator, but I’m highly involved), it felt like the year was slipping through my fingers.

The only thing anyone could talk about these days was the Ball. Headmaster Dunn loved a good celebration, so Hogwarts had two Balls a year: one at Christmas for fourth years and above and one at the end of the year for sixth and seventh years.

I was hurrying through the courtyard under fire from the pelting rain on the last day of November when I heard Malfoy call, “Weasley!”

I ground my teeth and continued to stride towards covering. We had just gotten out of a particularly grueling Herbology lesson and I was hardly in the mood to deal with him.

“Rude,” he said, grabbing my arm as he caught up to me. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“You don’t want to talk to me; you never do. You just want to harass me.”

“Not this time. It’s about the Ball,” he said.

I arched an eyebrow. I didn’t have the patience for him to seek my advice again only to ignore it.

"I'm asking you," he said. He smiled broadly, looking entirely pleased with himself.

"What?" I exclaimed, nearly dropping my books in shock.

"Indeed,” he said, as casually as if we were discussing magical theory, and not him asking me to the Ball, an act that was such an enormous leap out-of-character he could be a Muggle pole-vaulter. “I figure it's my best bet. I want to be a free agent, not chained to the expectations and excitement of a date that’s looking for a relationship with me. This is the perfect arrangement,” he said.

Before I could even roll my eyes at his arrogance, I had to ask, “And _what_ makes you think I'll agree?"

"What are your other options? Longbottom is going with Jade Barnes. I assume you would not stoop to the low of going with one of your relations, but even if you wanted to, are any still without a date? Who else is there?"

He was right. My friends already had dates. I had been hoping Oliver might ask me, as we had become friends in Transfiguration, but I found out that he'd asked a Ravenclaw. I hadn’t even thought about it, but I had no other options, at least no guarantees. What would be more shameful, not being asked or going with Mafoy?

"You know Weasley, I’m an attractive guy—”

“Oh, do you think so? I had no idea,” I said dryly.

“What I’m saying is I’m sure it wouldn’t go unnoticed if you showed up on my arm. I'm sure Breckenridge would make note of it," he said with a knowing look.

I took a long pause, imagining whether or not I would be able to stomach Malfoy for an entire evening. "Merlin,” I sighed. “ _If_ I were to agree, I’d want to make sure I got something out of this too. So, you would…” I paused, uncomfortable with giving Malfoy any insight into my personal feelings. “You would help make Oliver a little jealous?” I could only imagine how furious I was blushing.

"Absolutely, Red. So we’re in agreement?”

I exhaled and then nodded. “I agree to a _business arrangement_.”

“Yes, a business arrangement,” he said cheerfully. I hate that he always gets what he wants. “So, you'll need to show me your dress robes so I can approve and we can color coordinate.”

I rolled my eyes although I couldn’t help but smile. This would likely turn out badly.

Later that evening, I tried to casually reveal my Ball plans to Andie in the common room but she didn’t let me get away with that. Soon James, Al, Dom, Roxie, and Frank were all discussing the matter. They were debating my motive, with suggestions ranging from secret love for Malfoy to a mental break. I wasn’t about to confess that it was because I was afraid no one else would ask me.

"At least we don't have to worry about him taking advantage of our little Rosebud," James said with a chuckle.

"Hey, that was a little mean," I said, but didn't contradict him. Malfoy coming onto me was the last thing I was worried about.

"Now, now,” said Al, patronizingly. “We know Rose will be a great catch for someone someday.”

I sneered at his tone. I just wanted a boyfriend so I could get all this nonsense over with.

* * *

 

My mum sent me appropriate dress robes for the occasion and with some modifications, thanks to Dom, they actually looked quite nice. They were flowy and deep green and everyone kept saying how great it went with my hair, which Jade tamed into pretty ringlets for me.

Andie looked stunning with her tight, red dress, straight blonde hair and gorgeous fifth year date. Al and Frank didn’t clean up so bad either. Frank looked uncomfortable and Al’s hair didn’t get the memo that it was a formal occasion, but otherwise they looked charming.

The lot of us left Gryffindor Tower together, me tagging along as an awkward seventh wheel as I would be meeting Malfoy there. Outside the lavishly decorated Hall I saw Oliver, who looked very handsome himself, and his date heading inside. He smiled brightly and waved; I blushed. Oh, you're that happy to see me, but you don't ask me to the Ball?

Speaking of which, I had been wandering outside the enormous doors of the Hall for a few minutes now, feeling incredibly self-conscious. Where was my date, the person who was supposed to be saving me from this and making Oliver jealous? Just before I was about to panic and conclude that this was all some prank and he was going to stand me up, I heard from behind me, “Rose!” It was Malfoy’s voice, but it startled me to hear it saying my first name. I turned towards the source of the unfamiliar sound.

Now, despite my personal biases, I wouldn’t deny that Malfoy is a good-looking guy. I never found him remotely appealing because I couldn’t separate his physical attractiveness from his vile personality, but in this moment, I had to admit it. He was definitely gorgeous. Tall and elegant, his hair (which had grown out this year) was tousled sexily, his bone structure was impeccable. I shivered a little, my body trying to shake the thoughts from my brain.

"Rose," he said, with a slight nod and a smirk.

"Aren't we being friendly,” I said, trying to remember that this was just the same old Malfoy. “First names?"

"I thought we should be civil, for tonight at least. Unless you prefer otherwise?"

I stared at him a while, feeling like this had to be a trick. “No, no,” I said slowly, still wary. “We’re stuck together; we should try and have a pleasant evening.”

"Shall we?" he asked, extending his arm. I took it awkwardly. “This is a little confusing. I don’t know whether to treat you like a date or treat you like Weasley,” he said with a chuckle.

“Treat me like I’m me,” I scoffed. “That’s what I know and I like it that way.” The idea of Malfoy seducing me honestly made me feel a little sick.

“If it _was_ a date, I’d say you look great,” he said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Huh, yeah, but too bad I’m just Weasley,” I said, continuing to deflect the flirtations.

We sat down at a table with my friends, plus Cameron Wright and his date. It was surreal to be with my friends and Malfoy in a casual social setting.

Music began to play and people started getting up to dance, and it seemed to simultaneously occur to both of us that we were obligated to dance with each other. This Hall has seen many a sight but certainly _that_ would eclipse them all.

He turned to face me and laughed at the look on my face. "Merlin, don't look so excited. Come _on_ , we agreed to have a pleasant evening," he said. “I’m your date, you have to dance with me,” he grabbed my wrist and yanked me to the dance floor.

I know all the elegance and grace I possess would lead one to believe I am an excellent dancer, but believe it or not, it isn't one of my strengths. I spent almost the entire first song sort of just shrugging my shoulders and bumping into people.

"You dance like a drunk house elf!" Malfoy yelled over the music.

I glared at him. I was never going to dance in the exuberant and provocative manner my peers were, he knew what he was signing up for.

He grabbed me again and spun me around a few times. I initially yelled at him to stop, but by the third or fourth counter-turn I had to laugh. By the third song ("Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Bash") I was starting to relax and even have a bit of fun.

We were both dancing as goofily as possible. I was surprised he played along as he never seemed like the type to let loose and make a fool of himself. Yet here he was, shuffling to the beat like a total dork. He kept trying to get me to trip into couples dancing intimately and it felt like we were almost friends.

He suggested we get something to drink and I, already out of breath from the first couple of songs, agreed and followed him to the outskirts of the dance floor. We stood there, sipping our drinks and cracking jokes about Professor Knox’s dance moves. It was odd that we were sticking as close to each other as we were, as I figured we’d mainly do our own thing throughout the evening.

I saw James wave me over to him. However, when I moved to join him, I couldn't. It was as if my feet were glued to the floor. Malfoy seemed to be struggling in the same manner, wriggling but unable to leave the spot where we were standing.

In unison horror, we both slowly looked up. Enchanted mistletoe hung merrily above us, taunting us with the jolly little song it sung. My stomach plummeted to the ground and turned into a little puddle on the floor. I knew I was blushing furiously.

James skipped over to us, smirking. "Wotcher lovebirds," he said, as if nothing at all was the matter.

"You did this, Potter?!" I asked, trying to attack him, but falling over. No use of the legs, of course. Malfoy helped me into standing position again.

"Nope, they're just attracted to couples in love. Haven't you ever read anything about enchanted Christmas objects?" James said, beckoning a kid with a magical camera over to us.

I racked my brains for everything I'd read about wizarding Christmases. Frantically, I began wringing my hands and breathing deeply.

“I never read anything about enchanted mistletoe that does that!" I said hysterically.

"Relax, I'm joking. I did put it there. And you two can’t move until you kiss." Smug son of a banshee.

I looked at Malfoy helplessly. "There _must_ be another way." The butterflies in my stomach felt like they had hippogriff wings I was so nervous.

"Nope, 'fraid not," James said bluntly.

Hesitantly, Malfoy and I leaned towards each other, both with looks of repulsion on our faces. As he leaned in, I couldn’t help but instinctively bend away from him, to the point where I was half bent over backwards and his lips could only barely reach mine. He managed to plant a brief peck. That counts, right?

I fell over again trying to get away.

"Come on, that's no kiss," the kid with the camera said.

I gave him a look that could have Petrified him.

"I, I refuse. I will not ever- please James, honestly! This cannot be legal and I _will_ report you! I don't even— why would you even want this? Someone do something! I can't just—”

My frenzied speech was cut off because my mouth became otherwise occupied.

Malfoy had taken my face in his hands, turned my head towards him, and kissed me.

It took me a second to sort out what was happening. It started out slow, sweet, and soft—words I never thought I’d say in relation to Malfoy—his thumb lightly stroking my cheek, his lips gently moving against mine. Then things intensified. He moved his hands from my face to around my waist, pulling me closer, holding me so tight he practically lifted me off the ground. Other than tentatively sliding my hands around his neck, I was simply along for the ride, my inexperience halting much activity on my part besides response. We broke apart for a split second as he switched angles and the feel of his breath sent shockwaves of shivers through my body. His lips were on mine again in an instant.

Part of me was furious. Malfoy, the sleaziest bloke in school was my first kiss. I was entirely robbed of choice! Another part of me, an ashamed part, enjoyed it.

And then it was over. Had we been kissing for three seconds or three days? I was shell shocked, unable to move, unable to process anything.

He looked bemused. “It was just a kiss, Weasley.”

I didn't think I'd ever regain consciousness, but yeah, no big deal. Quieter, and just to me, he said, “If you think that was something, you have no idea.”

All I could manage to whisper was, “You’re calling me Weasley again,”

James was whistling and cheering, but wisely bolted when my head snapped in his direction.

"Come on," Malfoy said, gesturing for me to follow him. I trotted behind him, still not recovered.

We joined Al and Frank at the table, and with one look wordlessly agreed that the kiss had never happened. For enemies, we were excellent at telepathic communication.

"Dates bail on you already?" Malfoy teased, as Al and Frank were sitting alone.

Al pretended to wince. “Oh, you of little faith!” He said in mock dramatics. “They went to the toilet.”

"That's what they _told_ you," Malfoy said.

"How's it going with your date?" Al asked. "That ginger from Gryffindor, right?" he said, in pretend obliviousness.

"Alright enough,” he said with a shrug. “She does have some incredibly hot dance moves though.” Despite the sarcasm, I blushed. I excused myself to go to the toilet in hopes of composing myself, walking away as Al made a quip about Malfoy being the dateless one now.

I ended up running into my cousin Roxie in the bathroom and talking for a few minutes and then tripping and ripping my dress. I had to track down Dom, who was brilliant at tailoring spells, to help me mend it. I rejoined the festivities nearly twenty minutes after my original bathroom departure and found Andie to relay it all to.

“It isn’t noticeable is it? I think Dom did a pretty good job. I’m so glad I found her ‘cause I’m rubbish with clothes."

"No, no, you're fine. No one would ever know. But who _cares,_ get to the interesting stuff! You and Malfoy! Am I crazy or are you totally hitting it off?" she said, bouncing excitedly.

"Oh, it’s been surprisingly fun, but that’s all,” I said, shrugging it off. She gave me a look that said she wasn’t accepting that response. Had she gotten wind of the kiss? “It’s been totally causal,” I said awkwardly, unsure of how to describe the evenings strange turn.

"A proper snog like that is not casual,” she said.

“You heard about that, did you?” I said, avoiding her eye.

“I _saw_ it, Rose, it was like ten seconds long!” I furrowed my brow and shook my head. "Look how bad you’re blushing, it’s written all over your face!" she continued. "You haven't been able to keep your eyes off him all night."

"Psh, that is so untrue," I said distractedly.

“You're looking for him now, aren’t you?" It was kind of true. I was scanning the Hall, wondering where he’d disappeared to.

"Solely for date obligation purposes.”

"Well it seems to me that you’re having a great time with a super sexy classmate and maybe you should just accept that and enjoy it,” she said.

"Andie,” I said, getting serious, “one hour of playing nice can’t erase all the hateful history between us. Why are you suddenly keen on me and Malfoy anyways?"

"I don’t know, it’s just romantic!” she said, pouting a little. “Like, what’s that favorite Muggle book of yours? _Pride and Prejudice_!”

"Don’t talk about _P &P_, you don’t even know!” I said, a little hysterically.

“You made me watch the movie!” she snapped back. “Darcy was not the stuck-up prat Lizzie thought he was, and maybe Malfoy’s really been a Darcy all along.”

I got close to her and whispered menacingly, “If you ever compare Malfoy to Mr. Darcy again…”

She laughed and told me to suit myself, then left to rejoin her date.

Speaking of which, I couldn't seem to find mine anywhere. I inspected the Hall thoroughly, and then wandered out into the corridors, wondering if he had gone to the loo, and then meandered outside to the garden area. But what would he be doing out here?

Oh, how soon I found out. As I turned a corner, I nearly smacked into Malfoy and a girl in a passionate embrace against an ivy-covered pillar. They broke apart and he hazily seemed to recognize me.

"Sorry, Rose,” he said, with a little smile, like he thought it was a charmingly embarrassing situation. “Can we, er, get some privacy?"

I just stood there, fuming. I don't know why I was so mad. Wait, sure I do. You can’t leave the boy alone for ten minutes without him running off and snogging someone.

Malfoy sighed, recognizing all the signs of a Rose Weasley Angry Fit brewing. "Whats the matter?" he said, the way a parent asks a child why they won’t eat their food.

"I helped you out by coming along and now you've ditched me without fulfilling your end of the bargain! Not to mention, its just plain rude! Date obligation, Malfoy! Date obligation! You owe me!"

The girl, who I realized was Antonia, his ex-girlfriend, cleared her throat. She traced circles on his neck and asked seductively, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, Weasley is on her way. Just give me a second.” He ushered me a few feet away. “You knew this wasn't a real date and therefore the obligations don't apply."

I was angry with Malfoy, for being such an ass, angry with myself for nearly crying over him, angry with Antonia, for being such a slag, and more angry with Malfoy for pretending he didn't do anything wrong! I could feel the tears coming. I hated that I was prone to angry crying, it really undercut the strength of my arguments.

"It wasn't a real date, but it was a business arrangement and you didn't deliver!" He just stared at me with slightly raised eyebrows. "Did you do this on purpose? Invite me just to ruin my night?" My words sounded strangled.

"Weasley, I brought you along because I _didn't_ want a clingy date that was obsessed with me, so I consider your end of the bargain unfulfilled as well," he said matter-of-factly, turning to go back to Antonia.

"Obsessed? What? Obsessed with? I- I am not! You… I'm leaving!" I said, with a decisive foot stop as a punctuation mark to my incoherent stuttering.

"No, please stay," he mumbled sarcastically as he walked away.

I walked briskly back inside, trying to remain composed, but as soon as I turned into an empty corridor I burst into tears. I cursed myself for crying over him, why was I even crying over him? It wasn’t that big of a deal. And yet, there I was, sitting under the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy, sniffling and marinating in self-pity and anger.

I pulled myself together, deeply embarrassed by the whole affair, particularly my tearful outburst, and resolved to get back to my dormitory immediately. I tried to sneak past the Great Hall unnoticed but I heard Oliver’s voice calling my name. I had to suppress the urge to run away.

"Rose!" he hugged me enthusiastically. "I haven't seen you all night, having fun?"

His green eyes met my red and glossy ones and his smile immediately transformed into a look of concern.

"Whats the matter? What happened? Did Malfoy do something?" he said, placing his hand on my arm.

"Aside from being his normal wanker self, no,” I said, laughing feebly.

“No offense, but why'd you even come with him in the first place?"

I paused. “Failed social experiment?” That was the most he’d get out of me.

"You deserve better anyways,” he said, a hint of bravado.

I murmured in agreement and yawned, wanting nothing more than to crawl under my covers and sleep for a week.

"I mean me, by the way. Not that I’m, you know _better_ , but just, I would treat you better," he said, with his trademark awkward charm. "What I’m trying to say is, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me after the holidays?"

I was confused but endeared. "What about that girl you're with tonight?"

"Oh, we just agreed to go together, we’re not seeing each other."

"Alright, then," I said shyly. “That sounds nice.”

He beamed.

Before I had to interact with him anymore, I said, “Well, I’m really tired, I think I’m going to head up.”

He nodded sympathetically. “I better get back in there, but have a happy Christmas!" he said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you when we get back.”

Once safely in the confines of my dormitory, I scrubbed off all the make-up and threw my dress robes in my trunk. Shutting my curtains in the hopes that I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone for the remainder of the night, I buried myself under the blankets.

I couldn’t believe that prat was my first kiss. What rubbish. I don’t know what bothered me more, the way he behaved towards me or how strongly I reacted. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, why did I feel so sick?

I resolved to cease all thought of and interaction with Malfoy. If he didn’t exist, I wouldn’t have to answer the troubling question of why his dalliance with Antonia upset me so. I fell asleep thinking about not thinking about him.


	5. A Different Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy's first POV chapter!

I had gotten a particularly icy brand of cold shoulder from Weasley since we returned from Christmas holidays and she started going out with that Breckenridge bloke. You'd think it would be difficult to avoid someone you have to work with, but she’d done a fine job of it, managing to limit all interaction to only what was necessary for class.

She really has achieved new levels of annoying. This whole Ball incident was blown entirely out of proportion. Honestly, we went together so we wouldn't have to deal with bothersome partners and could just have a good time, but she had to go and throw a fit and sever all ties with me.

I don't particularly _care_ , but we used to do all our assignments together. We would bicker and end up irritated by the end of it, but we would get good marks and could collaborate. Now that she wants nothing to do with me, my grades are slipping. Not dropping, give me a break, I just have to put in _work_ now and it’s most unfortunate.

Antonia and I fizzled out over the holidays, as expected. And I wouldn’t mind, although it is irksome that Weasley is in a relationship and I'm not. Weasley in a relationship was puzzling enough.

Speaking of which, I ran into Oliver outside the Great Hall. I never had a problem with the fellow, but dating Weasley certainly shot his credibility.

"Hey, Scorpius,” he said, cheerfully.

"Oliver," I said, with a nod, content with that being the entirety of the conversation.

“The other Gryffindors would disown me but, as a Quidditch enthusiast, I’ve gotta hand it to you, your saves in the Slytherin game was amazing. If McCrae knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep you in as Keeper permanently.”

I had been playing as the alternate Keeper while Maria Sharma was out on injury.

"Thanks, mate,” I said, pleased by his praise and feeling slightly more friendly towards him. “How’re things with you?”

"Good, yeah. Aside from Potions class at least,” he chuckled. “And things with Rose have been great. I can’t believe I never noticed her. You sat next to her all those years, how did you not just fall in love with her?” he said with a little chuckle.

I squinted and said, "Hmm, yeah, how did I let that one get away?" Oliver nodded enthusiastically, possibly missing my sarcasm, so I continued, "Actually, Rose and I never really got along. Maybe it’s cause sitting next to her just exposed me to all her annoying little habits.” Maybe it’s a million other things too.

"What annoying little habits?" Oliver asked.

"You know! Well, the way she always plays with her ring, drops it, loses it, and freaks out and then does it all over again? Or how she hums to herself when she does her work? Or the way she runs her hands through her hair all the time? The irritating way she thumbs the pages of a book? And, Merlin my favorite, how when she's stressed or nervous she checks her pulse? As if she's afraid her heart stopped beating?"

"I’ve never noticed any of that," Oliver said, looking disbelieving.

"Seriously?” Weasley's ‘quirks’ had driven me crazy for the better half of my Hogwarts experience. It was hard to imagine her boyfriend wouldn’t notice them.

"Nope!" He chuckled a little. “Maybe finding the way somebody handles a book irritating is a bit of an overreaction.”

No, shut up.

After parting ways with Oliver, I headed towards the library. I was starting to get the impression that I knew Weasley better than her boyfriend. As I suspected, Weasley was sitting at one of the tables, bent over her books, scribbling thoroughly. She was twirling her ring around her finger, as I had just mentioned. I slid onto the chair opposite her and stared. She ignored me.

"Weasley," I said, still staring. By now she must be dying to look up, but she was holding her ground. She had been avoiding me for so long and now I was ready to get back on speaking terms with her. I don't like being ignored. What would be a greater shot to my pride, sucking up and apologizing to her or walking away and letting her hold onto the satisfaction she beat me?

I would have to check what I was going to say if I wanted her to accept it. 

"Look, I'm really sorry about what happened at the Ball. I was a prick. I really am sorry, ok? It was stupid and it won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't happen again," she said, shooting me a fierce look. "When would we ever be in such a scenario again?”

“I know I was an absolute—”

“It’s not about the Ball, Malfoy.” She jutted out her jaw and squared her shoulders, battle-ready. “I am tired of the barrage of insults and put-downs. I am tired of dealing with you. There’s no reason for me to be dealing with you.”

"Ok. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll lay off. Can we go back to normal, please?” I put on my best puppy-dog face.

After a long look, she turned back down to her notes. “I’ll stop with the silent treatment, but I can’t promise much more,” she said, curtly.

“Great, besties again! So, we have some catching up to do,” I said, cautiously adding a teasing tone to my voice.

"We don’t have anything to catch up on, Malfoy. It’s not like we were ever confidantes in the first place."

"A boyfriend, a boyfriend, Weasley's got a boyfriend!" I sang tauntingly.

She rolled her eyes. “Mmhm. Laugh it up.”

"I was talking to lover boy today. And I’m not entirely sure what the hell you’re doing.”

"Excuse me?” she said, her head snapping up.

"C’mon Weasley, he doesn’t even _know_ you. Do you even really like him?"

"Are you _crazy_ , Malfoy? What would you know about it?” Her face was red and her hair seemed to crackle in anger. Ah, I had missed that shrill shrieking. Like a banshee!

"For the record, I know you _extremely_ well. Better than him, in fact. Your favorite Muggle book is _Pride and Prejudice_ , your favorite film is _Star Wars,_ you like your tea English breakfast with just a little bit of milk, the only jewelry you ever wear is that ring, your grandmother’s, you think the Hat maybe should have put you in Hufflepuff, your wand is dogwood and unicorn hair, fourteen and a half inches, slightly springy—”

"Alright, so you know a few superficial details!” I gave her a look that made it clear I disagreed. “But what happened to laying off of me? There's only so much I can tolerate from you, so if you'll just excuse yourself now.”

"Even if you don’t want to admit it to me just admit it… to yourself." I said with a dramatic flourish and my hand on my heart. "What's the snogging like?" I said after a pause.

She pointed a quill at me threateningly. I decided not to test her patience today and stood to leave. "If you ever need a proper snog you know who to call," I said with a wink.

"Gross!" She shoved me away, but I just laughed.

I jogged back to my Common Room, feeling a weight off my shoulders. Xavier, a Ravenclaw in our year with dark brown skin and glasses was lounging on the sofas, laughing with Cameron.

"What are you guys up to?" I asked, flopping down in the adjacent loveseat.

"Rating girls," Xavier said. "We've just finished the Hufflepuffs."

"Oh wow you guys, really? Immature and cliché…" I said rolling my eyes and grabbing one of Cameron's chocolate frogs.

"Gryffindors." Xavier said, ignoring my comment. "Jade Barnes?”

"I'd give her a seven." Cameron said.

"Really?" I interjected. "I mean, I _guess_ I could see it. I'd say six though. Not the greatest body. Not _bad_ , just not great."

"Oh, Mr. Superior climbs down from his ivory tower to join us in this immature practice?" Xavier said. "And I'd give her an eight, I think she's just…really cute." He adjusted his glasses bashfully.

"Cute? Got a crush, have we?" I asked teasingly

"What! She is; she’s really cute!" He folded his arms. "I stand by that adjective."

"Alright, alright," Cameron said. "Charlotte Fallon?"

"Nine," Xavier said without hesitation. "Insanely hot."

"Yeah, she is pretty high up there," I agreed. "Points off for being kind of a slag though."

"Are you kidding, points _on_! Raises your chances a little," Xavier said with a laugh.

"Too skinny," Cam said, with a shrug. “She’s just skin and bones.”

"Who else?” Xavier asked.

"Andie!" Cam said eagerly.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know what you think of Andie." Xavier said.

"The blonde hair, gorgeous smile, fit body? She is the total package. To borrow a phrase, she is ridiculously cute," Cameron sighed.

"Yeah, I'd give her a six or seven,” I said. “She's pretty, undoubtedly, but nothing extraordinary.”

Xavier snorted. "For someone who gets around, Malfoy, you're a tough critic. On to… Rose Weasley!"

The sound I made was akin to a cat coughing up a hairball.

"Hey, Weasley's kind of hot. Once she opens her mouth it's all shot to hell because she's so bossy and annoying, but definitely not bad looking," Xavier said.

"For a ginger," Cameron added.

"No, but don’t you agree? She’s really got a rack now. Tall, good skin, nice smile, she’s not bad at all," Xavier said cheerily.

"She could try a little harder," Cameron said. "There is potential there though."

"Are you guys joking?" I said. "She's always frazzled and frizzy. She puts no work into her appearance whatsoever. And her teeth!”

"She fixed her teeth; they look fine now,” Xavier said. "I stand by my assessment. Definitely something there, if you exclude the personality."

As they moved onto Kristin Taylor, I contemplated their judgments in confusion. Weasley had looked good at the Ball, but that was it. One night of looking _fairly_ pretty.

The next day in class, I tried my hardest to look at Weasley through unbiased eyes, to see her as a girl and not the Blast Ended Skrewt she had always been to me. She was leaning on Al's desk looking over a paper, hair tumbling out of a braid and hanging around her face. She was biting her lip. I suppose she's not _ugly_ , persay, maybe what I found unappealing could be endearing to someone else. Al said something and she laughed. Xavier was right; her teeth were perfect. I wonder when she had them corrected. She cackled; her mouth opened too wide, her cheeks puffed up, and her eyes virtually disappeared. But it wouldn’t be quite fair to call her ugly. I’ve spent too much time on this topic already.

I decided I needed a new girl, one that wasn’t an airhead this time. I scanned the classroom for candidates. I didn't come to any immediate conclusions but was certain I'd have someone by the next Hogsmeade trip. I wasn't going to just hang around with the guys while Oliver and Weasley strolled around arm in arm.

* * *

As anticipated, I landed a date for Hogsmeade. She was a Slytherin named Enya Russell and while not conventionally beautiful, there was something compelling about her. She was very intense and alluring, different from any other girl I ever dated. I was actually a little surprised that she agreed to go with me. She seems like the type who would consider a Hogsmeade trip frivolous. But it is _me_.

I didn't want her to think I wasn't taking her seriously so I listened intently to her discuss her desire to be a Healer in our booth at The Three Broomsticks. I was telling her about the trip I had to take to St. Mungo’s after playing with my mother’s wand as a kid when I saw Weasley and Oliver enter and sit at a table across from us. It became harder to pay attention to Enya and my story when I had such a perfect view of Weasley and her boyfriend. I hadn’t seen them interact much and I had a newfound interest in their relationship.

Weasley was staring at her butterbeer, only glancing at him briefly as he carried the conversation. She kept pulling her hand from his to reach for chips and awkwardly avoided him whenever he tried to kiss her. She looked downright uncomfortable. I had to suppress a grin.

"Scorpius?" Enya asked, and I snapped my eyes back to hers. "Is there something going on back there?" She turned around.

"No, no. I just thought I saw someone. Continue!”

I had been right. There was nothing between Weasley and this guy. Her love life wasn’t surpassing mine. Her love life wasn’t anything. She was just as awkward and he was just as oblivious as I suspected.

Enya and I decided that our next stop would be Flourish and Blotts, as she had some things she wanted to pick up. I told her I just wanted to use the loo and I would meet her there.

In fact, I wanted to see if I could talk to Weasley. When she rose and headed for the toilets, I made my move, cornering her and pulling her towards a secluded booth. Oliver was still sitting at their table, drumming his hands.

"Merlin, Malfoy go away!" she protested, struggling as I flung her into the booth.

"I was right. About you and Oliver."

She scoffed. "What?”

"Cut it out, Weasley, you and I both know you’re miserable, you might as well confess!"

"Honestly, I have no idea what—"

"Rose!” I said, the use of her first name always successful in getting her attention. “I want this,” I gestured between the two of us, “to be good again. Tell me. I’m an objective third party. C’mon, _I_ used to tell you things.” I gave her the most sincere gaze I could manage.

She rolled her eyes and looked at me suspiciously. “I have a hard time believing you’re this interested in my relationship because you’re well-intentioned.”

"I want us to be on good terms." That wasn't even a complete lie. While I was getting pleasure out of the knowledge that her relationship was a farce, my intentions weren’t malicious.

She looked down and I could tell she was about to concede. When her eyes met mine again they were filled with worry. “Fine, but I don’t know! I don’t know what’s wrong with it!” She slunk down in her seat. “Or I should say I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Oliver is a great guy. He’s sweet and he actually really likes me, which is virtually unheard of.”

“But it’s not working,” I said.

“I’ve tried to push through it. I thought if I just stuck with it, I would get past the awkward part…” She looked so helpless I almost felt sad for her. “I just wanted to be like a normal girl with a normal relationship but evidently I can’t manage that and now you’re just going to make fun of me.”

"So you tried but it’s not getting any better?” She sighed. “Why don't you break up with him then?" I asked.

"Every time I try, I get too nervous. For a Gryffindor, I don’t seem to be very brave. What you said the other day, about me doubting my sorting? I don’t know how you knew that, but it’s true.”

“You chose Gryffindor, right? You asked the Hat to put you there,” I guessed.

“Sort of. I didn’t think so in the moment, but I suppose I did.”

“Maybe in choosing Gryffindor, you made the brave decision.”

Her eyes fluttered. “That’s a complicated paradox. So I’m brave because I’m a coward?” She said, a little smirk on her face, a sign of life under the stress.

“You’re not a coward. And you’re not a freak. We’re all pretending to have it together when none of us do. What you will be, if you don’t break it off, is miserable.”

“I know.” She looked down again.

In an odd burst of affection, I reached out and squeezed her hand. Her head snapped up at me in shock and I withdrew, but went on, unfazed. "You deserve to be with someone you’re mad about. Someone who understands you. Someone you’re comfortable with. Why waste your time on anything less?”

She squinted at me. “You _must_ be up to something. The Malfoy I know would never be that sweet without an ulterior motive.” But her expression was warm and there was even a small smile on her face, one I suspected was actually for me.

"Merlin, here I am, trying to help, being an absolute peach and this is what I get…” I slid over in the booth, getting ready to leave, but stopped for a moment and locked eyes with her. “Maybe I don’t want to be the Malfoy you know.” She stared silently, so I gave a small shrug and stood.

"I hope so,” she said softly. “Cause if all that was sincere, I appreciate it.”

I nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try and break it off. No, I’m _going_ to break it off.”

“There’s that steely resolve Rose Weasley is famous for. Go get ‘em, tiger!” I said, mock-punching her on the arm.

“Not a laughing matter!” she said shrilly. “I’m still terrified over here.”

I left to find my date and she trudged back towards Breckenridge, hopefully to end their pathetic dalliance.

* * *

Weasley didn’t immediately break it off with her boyfriend though. It wasn’t until a few Saturdays after Hogsmeade, while running Quidditch drills with Al, that I heard about the end of their relationship.

“They broke up last night,” he said, hitting the Quaffle with a thwack. “I don’t know if she’s more relieved or embarrassed.”

The light drizzle of rain made everything a little slippery but I managed to catch the Quaffle and send it careening back towards Al. “It was embarrassing for all of us. It’s about bloody time.”

We raced around the pitch, dropping into steep nosedives and swerving around the goal posts, until the rain began to really come down. We made our way back towards the castle, taking shelter under an awning.

Al wiped off his fogged-up glasses. “I love Rose, but she can be a little judgmental sometimes,” he said, returning to the subject of his cousin. “She’ll definitely never understand why I hang around with you.”

I raised a single eyebrow. I enjoyed flying with Al but we never were particularly warm and fuzzy with one another. “Why do you?” I said, before I could stop myself. I had always wondered what compelled Harry Potter’s son to befriend me.

He grimaced. “You’ll think it’s ridiculous.”

“Try me,” I said, intrigued.

“Well, I introduced myself to you I guess because I thought you’d understand the challenge of having notorious parents.”

I let out a guffaw. “I don’t mean to piss on that notion, but your parents are the saviours of the world, what exactly did you think we had in common?”

Al scratched his chin. “Yeah, yeah, I know being Harry and Ginny Potter’s kid is this big deal and I’ve had a lot of privileges. And I should probably appreciate it more than I do, but I’d rather just be normal. When your parents are famous and beloved, people have expectations for you. Everyone is interested in you and they act like they’re entitled to you or something just because your parents are in the public eye.”

I nodded sympathetically. While I still couldn’t muster much pity for the son of Harry Potter, I hadn’t considered how annoying it might get.

“And it’s all very well if you’re outgoing like my brother and sister, but I don’t really like talking to people, particularly when you know it’s just because your parents are famous.”

“I don’t care much for talking to people either,” I said, and Al laughed.

“Yeah, people are wankers,” he said. “And, for you, most of them either think you’re a Death Eater or they want to cozy up to you because your family is rich and well-established.”

“What?” I said, feigning surprise. “You’ve shattered my faith in our peers! But you also forgot all the girls that just want to snog me.”

“Right, that has got to be the hardest thing you struggle with.”


	6. Besotted: Part 1

His name is Brian Fletcher. And I'm hopelessly, pitifully in love. Let me explain.

At the start of fifth year, our Defense professor set up after class hours to practice for OWLs, so naturally I signed up right away. It was a prime opportunity to apply my practical skills and N.E.W.T level students were there to help us. One of these aforementioned seventh years was Brian. Smart, handsome, sweet, and one of the funniest people I've ever met. I have never liked a guy like this. I'm completely gobsmacked every time I'm with him.

We were practicing the Patronus Charm now and I was momentarily tempted to play it a little slower, therefore garnering more personal attention. But I could never actually play dumb, so that made my only other choice absolute domination of the field. Not to mention Malfoy attended the sessions and I couldn't have him upstaging me in any way.

One afternoon session, Malfoy leaned over to me while my cousin Lucy was giving instructions, "What form do you think your Patronus will take?" he whispered, grinning. "I'm thinking something in the woodland creature family…a squirrel, maybe?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh! A beaver! The teeth, the bushy hair, the frumpy work ethic?" he said, nodding.

"I am _not_ a beaver. And 'frumpy work ethic,' really, that’s your description of a beaver?" I said. Honestly, my teeth had been corrected. Of course he hadn't noticed.

"You are so a beaver.”

"Rose, Scorpius! Stop flirting and get over here," Brian teased, flashing his killer smile at us.

"Flirting!" I scoffed. “Please!”

Brian demonstrated by casting his Patronus and talking about the key to getting into the right emotional state. His took the form of a big bear and while he spoke it was lumbering around the room and pawing at things.

I had been thinking about my memory quite a bit. It was daunting to choose the most powerful and uplifting memory you’ve ever experienced and when one didn’t immediately spring to mind, it made me question my life.

I ended up deciding on the summer day I received my prefect letter. Everything had been wonderful. My family was proud of me and Frank and Al had been particularly happy and affectionate towards me that day. While it may not seem like much, two of the things that I'm most insecure about are the pressures of my family inheritance and the love of my friends. Being another in a long legacy of amazing wizards there are quite a lot of expectations, and feeling like I had at least in one way lived up to those standards was important to me. And Frank and Al are my two best friends, so I often find myself starved for affection and affirmation, which boys tend to not realize they need to give every so often. So this was a day my most troublesome insecurities were firmly rebuked. 

I took a deep breath counted to three before saying firmly, "Expecto Patronum!" A wisp of silvery material shot out of my wand and petered out soon after.

Malfoy chuckled.

"And what’s your happy moment, hmm? Drowning a puppy, maybe? Kicking children?" I asked.

Malfoy simply rasied an eyebrow at me and then pointed his own wand. The same thing happened to him.

"Have that problem of fizzling out often? I mean you know what they say about a guy's Patronus…" I cackled at my own joke.

“You wish you knew,” he sneered.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I replied.

I took another deep breath and resolved to brush Malfoy off. To do this to spite him. "Expecto Patronum!" A burst of light filled the room and a silvery object swirled around me. I could hardly contain my glee.

"Is that an otter?" one older girl shrieked.

"Hermione Granger's Patronus is an otter!” said another student excitedly.

"No." Malfoy said stepping forward and patting my shoulder. "That…is a beaver."

I pushed his hand off of me and stared at the swirling figure. It was. It was unmistakably a beaver. Bloody hell.

“You did this; you created a self-fulfilling prophecy!” I said, pointing at a laughing Malfoy.

"Congrats to Rose for being the first to accomplish the Patronus Charm!" Brian announced to the group, applauding. He walked over to me. "And such a cute one at that,” he said with a smile. I died.

I was fairly tall but he towered over me, his impressive physique dwarfing me. “Let him tease, Rose. The more pressure and the more negative energy, the better practice. When the time comes that you need to conjure a proper Patronus, you’ll be grateful to Scorpius.”

I nodded and told him I’d remember that. I was blushing furiously.

"At least I can perform the charm,” I said to Malfoy after Brian had walked away.

Malfoy didn’t manage to produce a Patronus until the next session, much to my delight. However, it turned out to be an eagle.

"Wow, have you ever seen anything so majestic?" he said, watching it fly around the room.

It was pretty bloody majestic.

* * *

 

It was a rainy Sunday morning and I was eating breakfast with Al, Frank, Andie, and Jade. Absentmindedly spreading jam on my scone, still half-asleep, I was jolted into alertness when Brian walked by our group. Noticing me, he smiled and paused. "Way to nail that hex the other day! I certainly wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley," he said.

I tried to be as casual as possible; no one but Andie knew about my crush and I wanted to keep it that way. "Oh, thanks! Yeah, haha, I’m very scary." I grimaced. That was truly awful.

"Terrifying,” he said with a grin. “See you around, Rose.”

"Bye!" I waved enthusiastically, nailing the coffin in my attempt at subtlety. I knew I was blushing furiously.

Slowly, I turned back to my friends. Al was staring at me, completely straight-faced but Frank was laughing.

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much! Tee-hee I just loooove Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Frank said, doing a cruel but accurate impression of my giggling.

"So, Rose,” Al said, folding his hands on the table and looking across at me as if it was some kind of interview. “Going for the seventh year, huh? Ambitious. When were you going to tell us about this burning passion of yours?”

“Stop! He isn’t and I’m certainly not and there’s nothing.” I said, an incoherent jumble of words more than a defense.

"Well, yeah, considering he has a thing going on with Ariana Underwood," Jade said before taking a bite of her bagel, as if it was casual news and not the end of the world.

Ariana Underwood, the sixth year Slytherin? The consummate politician. She was always personable and friendly, but one got the sense it wasn’t particularly sincere, like she was networking to further herself later on. She was usually dating whoever was the hottest item on the market at the time—the Quiddich star, the Head Boy, the famous heartthrob (my cousin Louis). And now Brian. What could he possibly see in her? Granted, she would be considered one of the fitter girls in school, with an impossibly slim figure and her Armenian heritage providing her with big brown eyes and luxurious black tresses. But Brian wasn’t so superficial.

"Uh, Rose?" Al said.

I had been digging my knife into the table. "Sorry, just forgot I have this big paper due! Gotta go!"

I gathered my things and was already out the door before Frank could yell, "What paper? We have all the same classes!"

I stormed into the Gryffindor common room. Ariana Underwood. Ugh. I retreated to my room for a while to brood and take an anger nap and emerged an hour later feeling more optimistic. These things never lasted long. All I had to do was bide my time.

I moseyed down to the Common Room, where my cousin, Dom was running her hands through her strawberry blonde in frustration and scowling over a book.

“Why did I take N.E.W.T. Transfig?” she moaned as I sat in an armchair across from her. “I’m not going to be an Auror or anything. I don’t need to know this stuff.” She tossed the book across the loveseat where she had bunkered down and looked at me pleadingly. “You’re good at this, right, could you help me?”

“I wish I could, but I’m a year behind. I doubt I’d be of much help,” I said sympathetically.

“I’ll tutor you, Dom,” a nearby voice said.

I turned to find Peter Longbottom resting his hands on the back of my chair.

“Really?” Dom said, hope and gratitude shining in her blue eyes.

“Yeah, Transfig isn’t so bad,” he said, walking to where she sat and scooting her over to make room for him. He picked up the book she had discarded and began to read what had stumped Dom. As Dom took notes on the tips Peter was giving, I had to stifle a smile. The two of them had always gotten along well, both being easy-going and extremely likeable, but seeing them squeezed together on the loveseat, I was struck by what a fine couple they’d make.

Dom was shaking her head and bemoaning her lack of intellect, while Peter refuted her doubts.

“You’re just saying that cause you have to!” Dom said, clearly voicing real insecurities, but maintaining a smile anyways. “Honestly, it’s fine, I’m not book smart. That’s ok, not everyone can be,” she said with a laugh.

“Dom, you’re very bright, I won’t hear otherwise. You’re right, not everyone has to excel academically, but struggling now and again doesn’t mean you aren’t smart.” Peter’s eyes remained fixed on the book, but Dom’s were on him and a sweet little smile crept on her face. “Plus you have a million other great qualities.”

I excused myself, feeling very much like I ought to leave them to it.

* * *

 

December arrived suddenly and sharply—the temperature plummeted and we were graced with three days of nonstop snow. I spent these blustery days in the library mostly, occasionally emerging for some tea and then retreating again.

One such afternoon, I was writing my Potions essay in a cozy nook when Brian sat down opposite me. I couldn’t stop the huge smile that escaped across my face.

He was dating Ariana still, but we had been seeing a great deal of each other lately. Between the O.W.L. practice sessions (where he always paid me special attention), prefect meetings (after which we’d often chat for ages), and the occasional cup of tea or pudding in the Great Hall, I felt like we were actually friends. All this time spent only affirmed my suspicion that he was the greatest guy in the world.

After a bit of talking and joking, Brian asked me whom I was going with to this year’s Christmas Ball.

Damn it. I could feel my face flush. "Actually, I wasn't planning on going." I tried my hardest to play it off like I was too cool for the Ball and didn’t care either way. "It’s just, I had a pretty awful time last year. So I was going to go home early, get a jump on the holiday." I made an effort to smile and look him in the eyes. "You and Ariana excited?"

"Uh, well." An embarrassed expression broke out across his face. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked up at me from under thick lashes. "Actually, Ariana and I broke up.”

Not openly beaming in that moment was one of the more difficult tasks I’ve faced in my life. "Oh, no, Brian. I’m sorry about that,” I said, giving a passably convincing performance of concern.

"Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving his hand as if to brush it off. “It was headed that way.”

I nodded sympathetically, wondering where this was going.

“But, yeah, that’s why I was wondering if you were free for the Ball. Once I realized I didn’t have a date anymore,” he looked down, embarrassed again, “I thought of you.” My heart honestly soared. “So, I’m disappointed to hear you aren’t interested. I bet we would’ve had a lot of fun,” he said, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. He already knew that I would accept.

"You know, I’m open to reconsidering,” I said teasingly, amazed at my ability to maintain my composure enough to flirt.

“I’ve been told I’m an excellent dancer,” he said seriously, presenting himself like a candidate.

“And you wouldn’t mind going to your last Christmas Ball with a measly fifth year?”

He laughed. “I don’t care at all. I’m keen to have fun with a friend, that’s enough for me.”

I actively ignored the word friend. “Then I suppose I wouldn’t mind helping you out,” I replied, supernatural calm on the outside, chaos within.

“Brilliant,” he said, with likely the most gorgeous smile this library has ever seen. "I’m so glad. Now I have a study group I have to meet in the common room, but I'll see to you tomorrow?"

Once he was safely out of sight, I gathered my things and bolted. I had to go somewhere safe and somewhere he wouldn't be, so I couldn't go to Gryffindor Tower. I had so much pent up energy that I needed to release. Briskly, and taking deep, calming breaths, I headed towards the fifth floor to the hopefully empty prefect’s bathroom. I announced the password (“apple tart”), entered, and cautiously inspected the area. Though I was certain I was alone, I still locked myself in a stall before I freaked out. Jumping up and down, giggling, squirming in glee, it was quite a scene. I wasn’t proud of it, but it needed to be done.

After successfully getting all the giggles out, I then felt the urgent need to tell somebody, preferably Andie or Lily, but I would be quite satisfied informing Frank and Al as well. Steadying myself and regaining composure, I exited my stall, only to find Malfoy standing by the door with a shocked expression on his pointed face that told me he hadheard at least some of my outburst.

Horror rushed through me and landed like a rock in my stomach. In an instant I went from euphoric to making an utter fool out of myself in front of Malfoy of all people. My face was radiating; it must have been the color of a turnip. Malfoy’s face, however, quickly moved from embarrassed surprise to extreme amusement.

He was laughing quite hard, but I managed to make out, “I thought I was about to have an extremely awkward moment with some poor embarrassed girl—” Laughter. “But it’s you!” Laughter. “What on earth were you squealing over?”

In an instant I made a decision. I plastered the biggest smile I could fake and clasped my hands together in enthusiasm. Bouncing on my toes a little I said, “Brian’s just asked me to the Ball!” If I pretended like I wasn’t mortified, he had no power. I had to own the moment.

He raised his eyebrows, the shadow of a smile still faintly etched on his face. “Who?

“You know, the seventh year? Tall, built, gorgeous green eyes—“

“Wow, ok, I get it.”

I forced myself to squeal again, hating him seeing me so silly, but needing to commit.

“Ok, if I had wanted to listen to the cries of banshee I would’ve stayed in Defense class,” he said, irritable. Now that he was annoyed instead of glib, I relaxed a little. Shimmying over to him, I grabbed hold of his arm and jumped up and down and chanted about going to the Ball with Brian.

"This is my boggart," he said completely straight-faced.

"I'm sorry,” I said with a contented sigh. “I’m just excited.”

He graced me with a little smile. “Well, I’d imagine so, you've been following him around like a Niffler after spare change for months."

I smirked. “So you did know who I was talking about.” He shrugged with a little roll of his eyes. “You noticed that I had a crush and now you’re happy for me. Man, Malfoy we are such good friends. You love me,” I said, in a joking tone.

“Any dolt with a pair of eyes would have noticed your crush. And I never said I was happy for you. Going to the Ball with the guy hardly makes you any less pathetic than you were before.” His words had a harsh edge to them.

Although I doubt it was visible to him, I could feel myself flinch. He stared at me with a cautious expression, as if waiting for my reaction to see if he had crossed a line.

I smiled, in no way trying to make it look convincing. “Well, I’m going to go be pathetic elsewhere,” I said, making for the exit of the bathroom.

I could hear Malfoy’s exasperated sigh behind me. “Weasley, wait!” he said, but I continued walking. I had no desire to start a feud, but I also wanted to get far away from him fast.

I walked back towards Gryffindor Tower with a cold disappointment. I don't know why it should surprise me in the least that he would say something like that. And I felt foolish for letting him get to me. Two things occurred to me—that I seemed to value the tense, teasing, frustrating but sort of real friendship I had with Malfoy, and that he didn’t.

I resolved to push the issue from my mind. I had better things to focus on, like the Ball with Brian. Or more immediately, my unfinished Potions essay.


	7. Besotted: Part 2

I sat in my last class before the holidays anxious and impatient. The topic, the effect of cinema in Muggle culture, would have usually enthralled me, but with the Ball so near I could hardly focus on anything.

"Now for your holiday assignment,” Professor Knox said, getting a chorus of groans in response. “No, it’s fun!” she insisted. Disbelieving faces stared back at her. “You and your partner will choose a landmark film in Muggle culture and discuss its effects and significance. No choosing any silly old film, you’ll really have to argue for why it’s important.”

I sighed. The assignment would be a breeze but my partner in that class was Malfoy, and the thought of watching a movie with Malfoy over Christmas made my stomach churn. We had kept our distance from each other since that day in the bathroom and we were avoiding eye contact even now.

“We’re doing _Star Wars,_ obviously,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Fine,” he replied, not putting up a fight. I’m sure he thought I would write the whole thing. "We can work on it separately, if you’d rather," he said, a little dejectedly if I wasn’t mistaken.

"I’m not writing it all by myself and if we each just work on our own part the essay won’t be cohesive,” I said. “It’ll take us no time at all.”

He scribbled something on a scrap of paper in his elegant, pointed handwriting and handed it to me. “Owl me over the break and we’ll arrange something.” He had written his address on the paper. I could be Scorpius Malfoy’s penpal; I almost wanted to laugh.

The professor wished us a good holiday and dismissed us. I simply nodded at Malfoy before gathering my things and hurrying back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

"Ugh, you look fine, stop fussing," Al said, as I checked the mirror for the fifteenth time. Al, Frank, Andie and I were in boys’ dormitory, getting ready to go down to the common room and meet our respective dates. Al and Andie were going together and Frank was taking Lily. It was one of those years where everyone was lazy or plain old desperate and ended up going with 'just friends' and people's cousins. Lily had begged me to convince Frank to take her, since, as a third year, she wouldn't have been able to go otherwise. He claimed to have obliged because he wanted to help her out, but really he had no one else to go with.

"You look _great_ , Rose," Andie said enthusiastically. She looked lovely herself, in flattering pink and an elegant updo.

I looked in the mirror again. I was wearing my hair down and smooth, as the girls in my dorm had suggested. I wanted to create as dramatic a contrast from last year's ball to this one. This year my hair was straight—thanks to some borrowed hair potion— and my dress was fitted and midnight blue.

Andie and I continued exchanging compliments until Frank stopped us. "Never mind all that, can we please go?" Frank stood by the door, urging us out.

"You don't think we look pretty, Frank?" Andie asked teasingly. Smirking, she spun me around and then gestured up and down her body suggestively.

Frank looked a little dazed for a second. "You guys look amazing. Really. Let’s go." Despite the joking, I couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on Andie. I squinted my eyes at him.

"I don't like your eagerness, Longbottom,” Al said warningly. “That’s my baby sister you're rushing to meet."

"Oh mate, gross. Don’t even!" Frank exclaimed.

I peered down the stairs to see if Brian was waiting in the common room. He was leaning on a couch talking to someone, looking as handsome as anyone has ever looked. That’s a man right there, all tall and burly and dapper. I fluttered about, oscillating on the steps in nervous anticipation. Al, who was behind me on the staircase, rolled his eyes, patted my shoulder, and continued on without me. Trying to remain calm, I followed him down the stairs, stepping carefully so as not to fall. I hoped it was one of those walking-down-the-stairs-dramatic-unveiling-of-a-suddenly-beautiful-girl-you-never-realized-you-loved, but it likely just looked like I was constipated.

Brian smiled widely as I walked over to him and offered his arm, which I took happily.

"You look beautiful, Rose." I received his compliment with a casual ‘thanks’, but inside I was squirming with glee. It felt like the sun was rising in my chest, slowly warming me and bringing it’s dazzling light.

The following hours were entirely splendid. Just spending time with Brian made my year, but dancing with him, joking with him, getting paraded around as his date? It was truly exquisite. It was a constant, in-my-face reminder of why I liked him so much. Not only was he an amazing, funny, humble, and admirable guy, but we just connect in a way I’ve never experienced before. We’re so in sync we barely have to articulate our thoughts, each knows the other one is already on the same page.

There was a certain pressure to the evening, however. I was trying to be fun and charming like my life depended on it.

Later in the evening, the band started up a ballad—the slow and easy beat contrasting completely with my racing heart. Brian extended his hand and I did a little curtsy. One of his hands clasped mine and the other wrapped around my waist. I gingerly placed my free hand on his shoulder, blushing at even this small intimacy. I stumbled a little in the course of the dance, but hopefully it was endearing and not embarassing. Anytime he spun me, I couldn’t help but giggle. Honestly, I tried to restrain myself, but it’s like a chemical reaction. Wearing a pretty dress and being twirled by the guy you fancy? There’s nothing that can be done to stop it.

I looked up at him several times but he never met my gaze. At first I thought he was just committed to adhering to proper form, but then I realized there was actually something else in the room that had his attention. As we turned, I caught a glimpse of his ex-girlfriend, Ariana.

I deflated. Like a replay on a Muggle series, I quickly flicked through all of our interactions, desperately searching for proof that it was me he liked, not her. Any indication that I was the quirky heroine who gets the guy in the end. I came up empty. I was in the wrong movie.

When we joked together between classes or over the occasional cup of tea, when he went out of his way for me or complimented me, it was easy to think that he could be interested. But I only allowed myself to take into consideration those occasional attentions, not the whole picture. His longing gaze towards Ariana forced me to face reality. He didn’t look at me the way you look at someone you like. His eyes didn’t linger on me. I knew that, I just didn’t want to admit it.

Impulsively, I asked, "Brian, what happened between you guys?"

He snapped out of his reverie and looked at me like he was just realizing I was there. “Oh, blimey. I’m so sorry, Rose,” he said, looking ashamed.

"Don't apologize,” I said firmly, sounding much steadier than I felt. “Tell me why you’re out here with me and not her.” We both glanced over at the Slytherin girl, who looked absolutely stunning in shimmering silver robes and voluptuous black curls piled loose on her head.

“We broke up. It wasn’t working,” he said, clearly not keen to divulge further.

“I’d say it looks like being broken up isn’t working either.”

He exhaled and almost rolled his eyes. “I’ll be done with Hogwarts this spring and starting my job at the Ministry. She’s still got another year left of school. We didn’t know how to handle it. A long-distance, serious relationship at our age seems doomed. No one expects school romances to last and it felt like it would be naïve to try. So we split up. Happy, nosy?” he said, a little teasingly.

I was not happy, I was sick to my stomach. And a little pissed off. Why couldn’t things just work out for me normally like they did everyone else? Why did I have to play couples counselor with the bloke I fancied and another girl? Why did I have to go and get my stupid hopes up when it should have been obvious there was no chance?

We had slowed down with all the talking and were just swaying lightly to the last strains of the music.

"Look, you’re passionate about her, right?” He nodded. Weirdly, for the first time I felt like I had some authority in this relationship. “And you want to be with her?” After a pause he nodded again. “Well then don’t worry about anything else. So what if people think pursuing a school romance is naïve, maybe it’s the most important thing you’ll ever do. If you love her, a year of inconvenience is worth a lifetime with the right person.”

Where any of that came from is beyond me.

He stared at me intently. “You’re right, Rose. You’re so bloody clever, honestly, I should keep you around all the time.”

"Right," I chuckled weakly.

“I don’t want to live my life that way, you know? Not going for things in case I get hurt or look stupid. That’s not the Gryffindor way.”

“Yes, we’re all about doing stupid things.”

“Thanks, Rose,” he said sincerely. I still couldn’t help but melt at such a sincere smile meant for me. Clearly I had to wait for my heart to catch up with my head.

I sighed, marveling at my own masochism. “Just go talk to her now.”

"What and ditch you? No way!" He protested

"Seriously, you’ve had a revelation. You can’t delay. It's pointless to spend the evening apart."

"Rose. You're the greatest. I can't tell you enough how much this means to me." He let go of me, taking my hands in his and kissing them. I tried to not get excited about that, as I was pushing him into the arms of another girl, but I still blushed. With one last smile, he jogged off towards Ariana.

I tried not to look the way I felt as I shuffled off to a table where Al, Andie and Frank were sitting, taking a break from dancing. I didn't want this to be a repeat of last year, where I ran off to my room just because of a boy. Lily appeared to be out on the dance floor with the other lucky third years that had been asked.

"You removed yourself from Brian's side long enough to say hello to us?" Frank said in a mocking tone.

I chuckled half-heartedly but said nothing. I wasn’t eager to discuss what had happened, partially I felt so foolish and partially because if I had to verbalize it, I might cry.

"Where is lover boy?" he asked, scanning the room.

"Where's _your_ date? Oh wait, I mean where's my thirteen year-old cousin?" I said, irritability punctuating every word. I had to force a laugh after an awkward beat to try and conceal my foul mood.

Andie looked suspicious, but instead of interrogating me, she seemed to catch someone's eye in the distance and excused herself, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

James sat down in her place and Peter followed suit. "Hey, wallflowers,” James said, fanning himself.

As Al and James struck up a banter about each others dates, my eyes drifted to where Brian and Ariana were dancing and making love-y eyes at each other. Guess they worked things out. He probably made some passionate and adorable speech. I took a deep breath, trying to control my nausea.

Dom was the next one to join us, looking flushed and happy. Her mane of golden hair was an absolute mess, but somehow looked fabulous. “Why aren’t you lot dancing?” she asked, breathlessly.

“I’m not in good enough shape to dance this much,” Frank said.

“No one wants to swing dance with me, but it’s so much fun, especially to a fast song like this,” she said, bouncing on her chair. Peter nodded, agreeing that partner dancing was the way to go. “Come on then, let’s get out there!” Dom said, with a playful little shimmy.

“No!” Peter said, suddenly red. “It’s fun, but it doesn’t mean I’m any good at it. There’s so many people out there I’d crash us into them the whole song.”

“Don’t you try and get out of it! I’ve seen you dance, you’re super skilled!” She was standing now and pulling his arm to try and get him out of his seat.

As he wrestled to stay in his seat, he blurted, “Yeah, but I couldn’t focus on the steps when I’m dancing with someone I fancy.”

Dom let go of his arm in surprise and he was flung back. There was an incredibly long pause where everyone at the table looked in anticipation between Dom and Peter. Peter seemed more shocked at what he had let slip than anyone else. The usually confident and easy-going guy sputtered—you could practically see his mind racing to think of a cover-up.

Dom reached for his hand again, this time gently pulling him up and meeting no resistance. “Don’t focus on the steps, that takes all the fun out of it anyways. We’ll improvise.” He followed her out on the dance floor, clearly still in a state of shock.

“So… does she like him too?” Frank asked. “Or was she just trying to make him feel less embarrassed?”

“I always thought they’d make a great couple. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did like him. She _should_ anyway, he’s such a catch,” I said, relieved to be distracted from my own romantic woe for the moment.

“Dom’s so friendly with everyone it’s hard to tell though,” James added, with an air of skepticism. “Either way, she needs to just be straight with him. Even though he didn’t mean to say it, it’s out there now and he doesn’t deserve to be kept in the dark just because she doesn’t want to let him down.”

James was incredibly protective, especially of people like Peter, whom he thought was too sweet to stand up for himself. We all glanced over at Peter and Dom on the dance floor, where they seemed to be having a good time, but it wasn’t clear whether or not it was romantic. James may have had a point; Dom was hard to read.

While watching one couple I was rooting for, I accidentally caught sight of the couple that slightly sickened me. I politely excused myself, standing and smoothing my robes as I walked away. My pretty blue robes, wasted on this night.

It was silly to cry. Of course it wasn't going anywhere, did I ever actually believe it could go anywhere? This shouldn't be affecting me so strongly. As I turned into an empty corridor, errant tears began to escape. Breathing deeply, I waved my hands in front of my face, attempting to contain myself and conceal my state until I could at least get to the privacy of my dorm. Once I felt a little steadier, I turned back and slammed into someone as I rounded the corner.

Malfoy managed to grab my arms to stop me from toppling over, as I was extra clumsy in my high shoes. I stepped back quickly, his hands slid down my arms as I moved away, but he managed to get a grip on me and keep me from escaping. I tried to turn around, as the prospect of him seeing me in such a vulnerable place was enough to make me tear up again. Nothing could be more humiliating than Malfoy seeing me cry over my foolish failed crush.

"Wait, Weasley!" he said, moving so I had to face him. Angry tears fell and I glared. Forcing me to expose my weakness, how very predictably Malfoy. "Why are you crying?" he asked. I commanded myself to look at him straight and was surprised to find what appeared to be genuine concern on his face.

"I don’t want to bother you with the details of my _pathetic existence_.” I couldn’t really put any power in the words when my voice was still shaky with emotion.

He sighed, almost in a frustrated way. "Weasley, you know I didn’t mean all that. I’ve been trying to give you your space but I thought you knew that it was because…” he trailed off, not sure how to continue. “I didn’t want to step on your toes further.”

All my frustration released at once. "Why do we do this to ourselves? All we do is piss each other off then apologize and reconcile and what are we trying to salvage? We’re not even friends." My voice was reaching shrill territory but I couldn’t control it. "I am so tired of putting this much work into what can only be described as a terrible working relationship at best.”

"I don't know. What are we doing? What are we?" He seemed genuinely perplexed. He sat down on the floor of the corridor, looking uncharacteristically defeated. I paused, not quite able to walk away.

"We are either friends who hate each other or enemies who care about each other.” I said, sliding down next to him on the cold, hard stones. “We should figure out what we are and then just stick with it," I said matter-of-factly.

"Ok, well, it would make sense for us to just be enemies,” he said. “We’ve always been comfortable with that.”

"There are the natural obstacles like the fact that we're in different houses and our families have...unpleasant history,” I added.

"Plus, you annoy me.”

"You leave all the work to me in our assignments. And, when you’re not picking on me personally, your general behavior still manages to disgust me," I offered.

" _You_ pick on _me_ ," he said and I rolled my eyes, but I wondered for the first time if any of my jabs ever made an impact on Malfoy. “And what are the reasons we should be friends?” he said, turning to face me with an earnest expression.

“We have to work together all the time.” I was at a loss after that, but realized that I did want to find another reason.

“I think we should just try to be friends. I do think of you as a friend, despite everything,” he said. His candor was odd, but refreshing.

"I guess we could. The alternative hasn't worked all that well so far."

He stuck out his hand and I shook it. "Is this how you dreamed you'd be spending your evening? On the floor with me?"

“Merlin, please don't remind me."

"What happened with the dreamboat? Is he why you were crying?" His tone was light and casual, and I could tell he was trying not to upset me.

"He got back together with his ex. After I _encouraged_ him to. I know it’s stupid to get all worked up. I couldn’t help it."

"Who was his ex again?" he asked, propping his arms on his knees and twirling a piece of string around his fingers.

"Ariana Underwood?”

"Merlin, she's like the hottest—Sorry... She's not _that_ hot."

"Apparently she is,” I said with a little grunt.

"Hey,” he said, turning and waiting for me to meet his eye contact. “It’s not stupid to be upset. Brian flirted with you a lot. It wasn’t ridiculous to think he could’ve reciprocated." I felt a little relief at the thought that it hadn't all been in my head. "Someday, somewhere, some nice nerd is going to think you’re a real catch.”

"Inspiring pep talk," I said, chuckling weakly. It made me feel better though, because I knew it was genuine. Malfoy wouldn’t tell me something to spare my feelings; he’d only say what he meant. Which was why sometimes it was weirdly easy to open up to him.

"And what happened to your date?" I asked.

"She was spectacularly boring. I wanted some air so I sought refuge out here."

"That’s real nice," I said.

"Oh, lay off the judgment, Weepy."

“Good thing we’re not watching a tearjerker for our project. I’m a crier. You’d have to cover your gold coffee tables and silk-lined, hand embroidered lounge chairs in your mansion to protect them from the storm of my tears.”

"First of all, it's a _manor_ , not a mansion. Second of all, have we decided we’re watching it at my place?"

I pondered this. What would be worse? A brief moment imagining my dad and the rest of my eclectic patchwork of relatives prowling about Malfoy and I had my decision.

"Do you have a television?" I asked.

"Yeah. I think it's old, but my mum likes to have it around in case she's in a mood for a movie."

"Your place it is. Less people to dodge.”

He exhaled sharply and looked less than pleased but I wasn’t going to offer to switch. Braving Malfoy Manor would be scary, but Scorpius in my home would be a guaranteed embarrassment for all parties involved.

"It'll certainly be interesting." He pursed his lips and paused. Then he said, "Well, are you heading back in or calling it a night?"

I looked at him, miserable. I should go back in, but nothing sounded less appealing in the world. "Don’t look at me for permission! Go to bed if you want to,” he said, rolling his eyes.

"I ought to go back in there though, right? Take back the night!” I declared, while he yawned and stood. He helped me on to my feet and I plucked my shoes off the ground.

“Maybe, but that’s definitely not what you _want_ to do. Do what you want,” he said, matter-of-factly.

As we rounded the corridor, we accidentally caught sight of a couple snogging across the hall, in a darkened corner. They broke apart. "Sorry—“ I began, but my apology was strangled in my throat when I realized that the pair was comprised of my best friend Andie and Cameron Wright. Malfoy’s best friend, incidentally.

"Rose, Scorpius?" Cameron said, surprised.

"Andie!" I said.

After a beat of awkward staring amongst the four of us, we split up. Andie and I headed back towards the common room.

Andie dates lots of guys; I suppose it wasn’t shocking that she would date Cam. She always kept me well informed though, almost to an annoying degree. If Jeremiah Williamson so much as glanced at her a beat longer than usual, I heard about it.

“So,” I said, rubbing my arms to combat the chill.

“Don’t freak out, alright? You’re probably freaking out already.”

I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Go ahead. When and how did this start? And what _is_ this?”

“Sometime, a few weeks ago maybe, we happened to bump into each other out by the lake. We had both gone for a run and it was really early and really cold and instead of running we started talking. We just…connected. And we kept seeing each other out on our morning runs, until it turned into us meeting up to run together. And half the time, we’d stop and just talk. And it evolved into something romantic. He kissed me late one night in the library and we’ve been snogging ever since.”

“I thought it was odd that you were suddenly insistent on studying in the library late,” I mumbled, more to myself than to her. “It’s been going on all this time? Why the secrecy?”

"This thing, it’s been just ours, you know? With relationships—not that I’m saying this is a relationship, we haven’t said that yet—but you have to share them with everyone else. And it was nice to be in this little, exciting bubble with him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, but then you and Malfoy got in that fight. I knew you wouldn’t understand why I’d want to be with his friend and I didn’t want to upset you.”

"You're right, I don’t understand.” I reigned in my unnecessary offense and offered a smile. “It’s a surprise, that’s all. If you really fancy him, I’ll like him too. I don't care if he’s Malfoy's friend, as long as you’re happy and he’s good to you." We stepped through the portrait hole to an empty common room and the heat from the blaring fires crashed over me like a warm, welcome wave.

Andie grabbed my arm and linked it with hers. “Thank you. I shouldn’t have been such a secretive little slag about it.” She gave her trademark, ‘Don’t blame me! I’m adorable!’ shrug and giggle. "Don't worry, it’s not like I’ll be making you hang out with Malfoy all the time.

"Malfoy and I are fine,” I said calmly, but without any desire to discuss the matter further. I spent far too much time talking about Malfoy and I was decidedly sick of it.

As we flopped onto the armchairs, Al and Frank entered through the portrait hole.

"Andie, Cameron Wright is outside asking to see you," Al said looking perplexed.

Andie blushed. "I'll be right back," she said, rushing outside.

"What in Merlin’s name?" Frank said, looking at the portrait hole Andie had disappeared through.

" _Cameron_ and _Andie_ have been _secretly_ _dating_ ," I said, every word saturated in intrigue.

The boys expressed their shock and surprise.

"I walked in on them _snogging_!"

"I didn't even knew they knew each other," Al said.

Frank was sputtering. He was pacing. His face was turning red. It was rare to see him like this. I saw him worried and nervous and depressed, but rarely angry. "Secretly dating? What is this, some Muggle soap opera?"

"Yeah, why didn't she tell us?" Al said, sitting down on the arm of my chair, pulling Bertie Botts Beans out of his robes and munching on them sleepily.

"Why him? He's so arrogant and stuffy! At least Malfoy has a sense of humor, Wright is—is haughty and stiff. Is it serious? What could she possibly see in him?" Frank paced.

"We don't really know him," I said reasonably.

Andie came back into the room, a huge smile on her face. She closed her eyes and leaned against the portrait hole for a moment, before noticing we were all staring.

"Well, I might as well tell you. Cam is officially my boyfriend."

I opened my mouth to say something but Frank blurted out, " Cameron Wright is a complete prick!"

"Excuse me? You don't know him," Andie said, taken aback by Frank’s unusual aggression.

Frank ignored her. "Sneaking around with him, honestly, who do you think you are?”

"Frank, just give it some time to sink in," I said, feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't get it; what do you have against Cam?" Andie said. "I like him a lot and he likes me.”

"We're happy for you, Andie," I said, before a twitchy Frank could rant any further. "Now we're all going to get some sleep, aren’t we? It's been a big evening." I said, in my best mummy voice. I shot Al and Frank a look that said, “Don’t fight me on this.”

Frank was still riled up but followed Al when he stood up and climbed the stairs.

"Do you know what that was about?” Andie said when we were back in our dormitory, taking apart our carefully constructed looks.

I wiggled out of my dress and into my coziest pajamas. I needed the good stuff tonight— the old flannel set for maximum comfort. "I honestly don't. I had no idea Frank disliked Cameron." It wasn’t outrageous to suspect jealousy was the foundation of Frank’s outburst, but saying that certainly wouldn’t help anything, would it?

The night had been so saturated in drama that despite my exhaustion, it took me a while to fall asleep. Images kept flashing through my brain in a loop—Cam and Andie snogging in the corner, Dom dragging Peter onto the dance floor, Malfoy sliding onto the floor next to me, Frank looking one step away from steam coming out of his ears and, over and over again, Brian beaming while dancing with me, followed immediately by him reuniting with Ariana.

Get me to the holidays now, please. I need some hot cocoa therapy, damnit.


	8. Malfoy Manor

I glanced in the mirror quickly. My hair was pulled back into its typical half-up, half-down, disheveled do and I was wearing my cozy blue sweater and jeans. I had meant to try and make myself presentable but lost track of time talking with Lily and Aunt Ginny and would have to work with what I had. I told myself it didn’t matter, but something in me didn’t want to appear in the aristocratic, ancient Malfoy home in disarray. I had to shrug and move on with it though; otherwise I’d be late.  

There were even more people in my house than usual, dashing my hopes of escaping unnoticed. Al and Hugo were playing wizard's chess in the living room and Frank was languidly flipping through what looked like a copy of _Witch Weekly_. My mother and Neville were chatting at the counter and my dad, Aunt Ginny, and Uncle Harry were at the kitchen table. Lily and Elizabeth Longbottom were bundled up outside on the veranda, Lily chattering on as Elizabeth painted. The backyard draped in snow made for a lovely scene and Elizabeth was very artistic.

Saturdays were often like this, with various friends and family coming and going. I tried to move inconspicuously towards the fireplace in the living room.

"I'm going to work on my project, so see-you-all-later-bye!" I said quickly, lunging for the Floo Powder.

"Wait," said Frank, slapping his magazine down, "you mean the one with _Malfoy_?"

I could practically hear my father’s ears perk up. He turned from his tea and conversation and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Rosie?”

"I have to go work on a project with…a classmate. I told Mum.”

"This classmate is the Malfoy kid?” he said, in his finest fatherly tone of concern. “What sort of project? Why do you have to go to his house? Why can’t he come here?”

By now, everyone was listening. Aunt Ginny was suppressing a giggle but Uncle Harry looked uncomfortable. My mother gave me a sympathetic glance, but wasn’t going to put a stop to Dad’s nonsense.

"Believe me, I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t have to,” I said to my dad. “Now, everyone shut it! I'm leaving,” I said, throwing the Floo Powder and announcing "Malfoy Manor!" Before I was transported I could hear Al say, "Give my best to the manor!" in a haughty, mock aristocratic voice.

I coughed a little bit, dusting off and waving the ash away from my face. When the air cleared, I found myself in a stately study. I beheld a massive mahogany desk, walls lined with ancient tomes, and Malfoy perched on a leather armchair, a book in hand. Glancing up at me, he snapped the book shut and returned it to its space on the shelf. He was in a black sweater and dark jeans, his hair combed neatly looking incredibly put together as always. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, conscious of my messiness and wondering if I was covered in Floo Powder.

"Weasley. Took you long enough," he said, eyes flicking to the majestic grandfather clock that indicated that I was two minutes past our scheduled time.

"Oh, did you have something better to do?” I asked sarcastically. 

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but seemed to decide against it, instead gesturing for us to leave the room. As we exited to the hall, we found ourselves in foreign territory: grasping for polite small talk.

"How was your Christmas?" I asked.

"Perfectly satisfactory," he said, all business. "My parents had my broom repaired and it's flying better than ever, so, makes it all the more likely Ravenclaw is will destroy Hufflepuff in the next match." He sighed pompously, like it was such a burden being so perfect, but his words lacked the teasing tone I had come to expect from him.

He was acting strange. Arrogance wasn’t unusual, but this stiff awkwardness was unlike the Malfoy of recent years. I was reminded of the defensive eleven year-old boy on the train.

I tried to keep things light. "I wouldn't count on it, my brother has been practicing everyday the weather permits."

"Well, some have to practice, others are just naturally gifted. And, of course, some will never manage, hard as they may try,” he said, gesturing towards me. That was a little more like it. Before I could compose a sassy retort, a woman emerged from around the corner.

Malfoy's mother was extremely beautiful. Like, possibly one of the most striking people I had ever seen, and my aunt is part-Veela. Her hair tumbled in silky, dark waves and she had the same blue-green eyes as her son. She exuded elegance. Sophistication wafted off of her like perfume. A knowing smirk rested so perfectly on her pixie-like face that I had to imagine it had permanent residence there. I was deeply intimidated, again aware of how short I fell in this house.

"Rose, darling. I'm Astoria, it's such a pleasure to meet you." She took my hand and smiled with surprising warmth.

Malfoy looked back and forth between us like this couldn’t be a good idea. "Thank you, mother. That will be all.”

"Scorpius, allow me this,” she said, the impish grin returning. “You so rarely have anyone over.” She smiled widely at me. "And never girls!"

Malfoy rubbed his neck, “Golly, Mum, I wonder why!”

Astoria ignored him, instead wrapping her arm around mine and walking with me. "Honestly, sometimes he can be so overly dramatic.”

"Tell me about it," I said, loving this. We stopped at the foot of a massive staircase.

“I’ll let you two get to your project, but I insist you stay for dinner.” Before I could object, she said, “Scorpius’s father is out of town tonight so we’ll need the company and I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Rose. Is there anything you don’t eat?”

I was stunned into submission. Astoria Malfoy didn’t strike me as the kind of person who accepts “no” very often. And the absence of Mr. Malfoy made it slightly more appealing. “No, Mrs. Malfoy, I eat everything. Thank you.”

"Terrific. And it’s Astoria, sweetheart. Now, the movie is ready to go upstairs. Let me know if you two need anything." I didn’t like the way she kept saying “you two,” as if Malfoy and I were a pair. She turned and clicked off, the sound of her heels on the marble floor gently fading as she disappeared into another wing of the house.

I glanced back at a distressed Malfoy, who was rubbing his temples.

“Oh, come now. You can’t be that mortified. Your mom seems completely amazing.”

He glanced up at me. “She’s dreadfully embarrassing actually. But that’s not it.” He walked slowly towards where I stood on the first step, pausing before the staircase and resting his hand on the railing. He looked down, and then began what seemed to be a prepared speech. “I just want you to know that I’m not ignoring it. What it means for you to be here. This place means something different to me, but it wasn’t long ago that it was host to some unspeakable acts.” His eyes met mine. “I don’t even know what to say other than that I’m sorry for what happened here. And I hope you can…” he paused. “I can't quite ask for forgiveness, but I hope you know that things are different now.”

My shock was comprised of equal parts embarrassment and admiration. I had tried to push the manor's history out of my mind and even now didn't want to think about what had happened here. “I really appreciate you saying that. But you don’t have to ask for my forgiveness, it’s really not about either of us.”

He gave a short nod.

“Thank you, though.” It couldn’t have been easy for him to say all that. To include himself in his family’s past crimes, when he had been so sensitive about that when we first met, showed a lot of humility. I wanted to say that, but thought it’d just make things weirder. He’d appreciate it more if I just moved the topic along.

"So, where's your room?" I said in a sing-song voice as we climbed the stairs.

"That’s irrelevant."

"I’ll just have to open every door until I find it,” I said, playfully.

"Weasley," Malfoy sighed. I reached for the handle of the first door along the hall, but he grabbed my wrist before I could and dragged me down the hall, practically flinging me into a room.

It was unnaturally clean, though I suppose that would be thanks to the legion of house elves that undoubtedly worked here. An enormous dark wood bed stood in the center of the room, adorned with silky navy sheets and several pillows. There was a Ravenclaw tapestry on the wall, a leather armchair, and a bookshelf and matching desk. I would've loved to have perused the bookshelf and discover Malfoy’s favorites, but three wizard pictures on the desk caught my eye. The first was of him, probably around twelve with his mother outside what looked like a cathedral.

"France," Malfoy said, noticing where my gaze had fallen.

The next frame held a more recent photo of him with some of his Ravenclaw friends, including Cam. They were laughing in their Hogwarts robes and Malfoy looked so jovial I hardly recognized him. The last photo was of a cheering, jostling crowd, with Malfoy and his father in the stands smiling and waving for the camera. Judging by the enormous stadium it looked like a World Championship match.

"Which match was this?" I asked pointing towards the picture of Malfoy and his older likeness.

"Quidditch World Cup, Germany versus Ghana."

"Oh, brilliant! I'm so jealous. That save made by Kruger?"

"I've never seen anything like it," he said, grinning.

After examining the pictures for another moment, Malfoy said, "Alright, Red, that's enough. Let's get a move on."

I followed him through the labyrinth of the manor and up to a spacious, renovated attic space. It was a recreation room that had a few wizarding games, a pool table, couch and outdated Muggle TV.

We settled on opposite ends of the couch, as Malfoy fiddled with the remote to get the movie on. “Have you see this before?” I asked.

“No. The only time I ever watch movies is with my mom and she mainly likes period pieces and political dramas.”

As famous opening crawl came across the screen, I tried not to laugh at the thought of Malfoy watching _Pride and Prejudice_ with his mom. _Star Wars_ was the one Muggle movie my dad liked and he and Grandpa Granger and I watched it all the time when I was a kid. I had to stop myself from reciting the whole thing. After two hours of trying to refrain from quoting the whole thing glancing and at Malfoy out of the corner of my eye to see if he was enjoying it, we (mainly I) put together an adequate rough draft fairly quickly.

Malfoy led me back downstairs and past an elegant sitting room that housed a gorgeous grand piano. “Do you play?” I asked.

“This isn’t a play-date,” he said, but there was little smirk on his face. “You can’t just boss me around my own house and make me do whatever whim crosses your mind. Though that does sound hot,” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“That’s a yes,” I said cheerfully, ignoring the innuendo and pushing him towards the piano.

He sat on the bench with a huff, but I knew he was too conceited to resist showing off a talent. He played incredibly well, his fingers deftly moving across the keys to produce a light and lovely melody. I stood behind him, and my eyes wandered from his skilled hands to the nape of his neck, where his hair curled a little at the ends. He turned, his playing not stumbling in the slightest, and he gave me the most self-satisfied smirk, as if he knew that my gaze had been lingering on him. He couldn’t have possibly known that, right?

He finished the piece and slammed the piano shut, causing me to jump a little. I followed him back out into the hallway, where a fluffy, grey cat darted in front of us and I nearly tripped. Malfoy stuck his arm out to prevent me from falling.

"That would be Erasmus," he said.

I snickered.

Later that evening, I sat opposite Astoria and Malfoy at the incredibly grand dining room table. “Thank you, Emmie. I think that will be all for the night if you’d like to take the rest of the evening off,” Astoria said to the sweet house elf who had prepared the meal. Malfoy’s mother had a proud air to her, but spoke with a surprising kindness.

“Thank you, mistress,” Emmie replied, with a little curtsy. My mother would be pleased.

Astoria and I had a surprising amount of similar interests, both Muggle and wizarding—her Muggle fascination rivaled my Granddad Weasley’s. We talked about literature and music and history. Malfoy mostly just huffed and puffed, occasionally stepping in to correct something.

"Rose, it has been such a pleasure having you,” Astoria said at the end of the night. “Please come back anytime," Astoria said, grasping my hand. Malfoy just stood tall and irritated, with his hands behind his back. "And I’ll send you that book once I’m finished with it.”

"Oh, I will definitely owl you," I said, with a side-glance at Malfoy. Astoria and I had agreed to correspond, much to his horror.

After one last thanks to Astoria, Malfoy escorted me back to the study.

“So, I’ll fix up the rough draft since you did most of the work,” he said.

“Thank you!” I said in surprise. “Send it to me though, so I can look it over before we turn it in.”

He rolled his eyes. “Enjoy the rest of your holiday," he said, gesturing towards the fireplace.

"See you in school," I replied. I turned to leave, but briefly glanced back at him and said, “Thanks.” I flung the powder, announced my destination, and stepped into the fireplace.


	9. Malfoy, Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, from his perspective again!

On the cold, January morning of the first Quidditch match of the year, I sat at the Ravenclaw table beside a canoodling Cam and Andrea. I was pleased that Cam had found some entertainment but being around an excessively affectionate couple was not to my liking. I took a sip of my tea and perused my copy of the Daily Prophet, trying not to notice the PDA going on next to me.

I was startled when Weasley plopped herself down on the other side of me. She had her hair messily thrown up and was decked out in Gryffindor colors, even though today’s match was Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff.

"Weasley, Andrea is over there," I said, without making eye contact.

"Actually, Malfoy, I've come to talk to you," she said, a playfulness in her voice that made me wary. I faced her; she was smirking. "Rigby just brought me the most interesting letter from my friend, Astoria." She held up a letter that unmistakably featured my mother's handwriting.

The fact that my mother had befriended Weasley was most unfortunate. I don't care for my school and home lives to intertwine. Despite my popularity and abundance of friends, the Malfoy name still carries a reputation and I trust few people with that. Cam is the only person from Hogwarts who has been to my home, until Weasley, whom my mother adores coincidentally. Trying to guess at what they’re writing to one another is driving me mad.

"Are you really that starved for friendship that you’ve resorted to my mother?" I snapped.

Weasley ignored this and continued. "She’s been telling me such charming stories of your childhood."

I assumed this was a lie, but you never know with either of these women. "I'm just going to channel my annoyance into today's match and crush Hufflepuff."

Rose's younger brother, Hugo, was the Hufflepuff Seeker. Despite his awkward, lanky form he was quite fast and a good Seeker, but he didn’t compare to ours, Craig McGuinness.

Laughing, Weasley stood. "Come on, Andie. Lines are being drawn. The Ravenclaws are officially our opponents now."

Andrea whined. "Rose, Gryffindor isn't even playing."

"No, but both our brothers are playing for Hufflepuff. Besides, Ravenclaw can't win if Gryffindor's going to have a shot at the Cup."

Standing and kissing Cam's head, Andrea said, "I don't get the fascination with this game."

Weasley cried, “Game?” at the same time I said, indignantly, "It's more than just a game!"

I sat on my Clean Sweep Whisk, hovering around the goal posts, the frigid air making my eyes water. Ravenclaw was up by thirty, but Hufflepuff was in fine form. The Chasers were certainly giving me a workout.

I glanced towards the stands, something I don't often do as I'm required to keep an eye on the Quaffle at all times, and somehow made eye contact with Weasley. She was with her cousins and Longbottom and she smirked at me. Startled that I let my attention get diverted, I turned back towards the game.

Harrison Quibble, a Beater for Hufflepuff, was poised to whack a Bludger nearby. As it came speeding towards him he took aim and sent it flying towards one of our Chasers, Jeremiah Williams. Jeremiah narrowly dodged the oncoming Bludger but which a thawack! it collided with Hugo Weasley, who had been behind him. It was a nasty blow and Hugo was knocked unconscious and off his broom, sent plummeting to the hard earth below.

In a split-second reaction, I dived forward on my Whisk, caught him in my arms and hoisted him onto my broom.  
The adrenaline faded and I realized what had transpired. Merlin’s bollocks. Of course the teachers and Madam Hooch wouldn't have let him fall to his death. The stadium had fell quiet and the even the players had stopped to stare. Quidditch commentator Nicolette Blackburn awkwardly coughed over the speakers.

I was both shocked and tremendously uncomfortable, and that feeling was reflected on every face looking back at me. Even unconscious Hugo looked awkward. I almost considered just dropping him, but before I could do so, there was another crack! and everything went dark.

 

When I awoke in the hospital wing, night had fallen. Feeling angry and thoroughly embarrassed, I sat up and took in my surroundings. Hugo was lying in a bed across the room and a few people were gathered around his bedside. I was thankful he was asleep; I didn't fancy having that conversation. Hi, I know we've never met but today I felt compelled to catch you in my arms and heave you on my broom. Tea?

As I glanced to my other side, I saw Weasley, the female Weasley, slumped in a chair and dozing by my bedside. Shocked and unsure of what to do, I sat up further. My movement roused her and she blinked a few times before realizing where she was. She shifted in her seat and leaned towards me. Her expression was infuriatingly difficult to read. “How do you feel?” she asked.

"What time is it?" was all I said. She was in Muggle clothes and it was dark so I must have been out for several hours.

“Quarter to eight," she said. "Madam Spore fixed the two of you up and gave you both Sleeping Draughts. I don’t think you’ll have to stay overnight though."

"And the match?"

"Craig had caught the Snitch right after Hutch took that Bludger to the head." She was looking at me with curiosity. "Thank you. You didn't have to do it. They would'nt have let him fall. But I appreciate it anyway. Seeing him get hit and knocked off like that was absolutely terrifying.”

I could do nothing but look at her. She was pale, paler than I, and little freckles punctuated her skin. Her hair was down now, and fell in bushy waves, redder than ever in the candlelight. Her thick eyebrows were furrowed with concern, the hazel eyes beneath them flickering uncertainly between green and brown. Her nose and mouth were petite, her lips a little thin but overall pleasant. Her startlingly voluptuous breasts were generously exposed in a rare low-cut sweater.

Troublesome. Was it the dim lighting and head trauma, or had she gotten decent looking?

I snapped out of it and looked away from her. “It was a split-second reaction. I acted completely without thinking.” She had a tiny, infuriating smile on her face. "Better question," I said, "is what are you doing at my bedside and not your brother's?"

"I was with him, all day. But when I came back from dinner, your friends had left and you were all alone. You looked so pathetic and lonely that my gentle spirit got the best of me. Plus, I felt I owed it to you."

"So, you took it upon yourself to keep my vigil?" I said, my tone skeptical.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you,” she said, but there was still a soft smile still across her features. It was as if I didn’t intimidate her anymore. “Thank you for looking out for my brother. Even if you didn't do it on purpose."

“And I didn’t do it for you,” I said, defensively.

She was standing and picking up her book bag. “I know,” she replied, unconvincingly. She strode off, stopped by Hugo's bed and kissed his forehead and glanced at me again, briefly, before exiting the hospital wing.

I was watching her leave, so I didn’t notice Ariel Lee sit down in the place Weasley vacated. Ariel was a willowy Asian Slytherin and a notorious flirt.

“Scorpius!” she said, clasping my hand. “What you did today was so brave.”

I wriggled in the bed a little so I could sit up and face her. “Thank you, but it was really just a gut reaction.”

She made a huffing noise. “It was amazing. Are you still in pain?” Her face was contorted into an expression of upmost concern, but I could see the twinkle in her eye. Ariel was an opportunist and wouldn’t miss a chance to wriggle her way into the middle of any dramatic events. Still, I could be an opportunist too.

Wincing, I said, “Just a little. I’m just glad no one got seriously hurt.”

 

“Remind me to thank your brother, Weasley,” I said, catching up to her on the way to our first class on Monday. “The events at the match ended up being quite fortuitous for me.”

She looked at me with a furrowed brow of confusion.

“It just so happens that my heroic display and dramatic injury garnered some attention from the sensitive female hearts of Hogwarts."

She did a double take and exclaimed, “Ew! Honestly, you should have been resting after your head trauma. Really, have you no restraint? Who was it? No, I don’t want to know.”

“Ariel. She was a very dutiful nurse,” I responded anyway.

“Oh, well, of course. I don’t know if you can give yourself that much applause; she doesn’t seem to apply much discernment.” She paused. “No, stop, that’s judgmental” she said, correcting herself with a shake of her head. She turned her attention back to me. “Especially considering you’re actually more of a slag than she is.”

She was disgusted by me again. Good. Better she cringe at my rampant sexual prowess than think me pathetic.


	10. Celebrate My Existence

I laid out on the grass by the lake, under a magnificent tree, absorbing the sun’s rays for the first time in months. O.W.L.s had completely wiped me out. I felt like a dried out old sponge that was finally hydrating again.

They went as good as they could have, I suppose. Potions has never been my strongest; I accidentally overheated my Forgetfulness Potion. I completely blanked during one section of Arithmancy. My father would encourage me to stop focusing on my weaknesses and rather think about the fact that the other eight exams seemed to go fairly well, but it was my nature to wrestle with any deficit in academic excellence. Especially because I was always in such close competition with Malfoy.

Now that it was all behind me and I had a chance to properly sleep and eat again, it was glorious to revel in the spring. We would be leaving for home in a few days and were enjoying Hogwarts worry-free--  a rare phenomenon. Al, Frank and I had camped out by the tree with some food generously given to us by the house-elves in the kitchen and had ourselves a lovely afternoon.

“Nice of Andie to join us,” Frank said sarcastically.

“She’s ‘in love,' or whatever, we can’t exactly hold her happiness against her,” I said.

“I’d rather her desert us than force us to endure all that bloody PDA,” Al chimed in. Frank made a gagging noise.

While Andie’s relationship was irritating all of us, it had become apparent in the months since Christmas that Frank was actually upset by it. Which meant that he wasn’t all too fun to be around either, as he was constantly complaining about them. Al wasn’t so quick to believe it was purely out of romantic jealousy, but I was pretty certain he was harboring feelings for her. And I usually have a pretty good sense of these things.

Ironically and in perfect timing, just as I was contemplating my amazing intuition, Oliver Breckenridge strolled by with some other Gryffindors. I flushed, but tried to wave casually. He waved back, amiable and easy-going as ever.

“So, you guys are still acting like nothing ever happened?” Frank asked, squinting in the sun as he glanced Oliver’s way.

“Yes, essentially.”

“And you still don’t know why he was so reluctant to break up?” Al said. I scoffed in offense and hurled a grape at him. Laughing, he said, “I only mean the relationship was so flippin’ awkward, yet he seemed to be so keen on it.”

I laid down on our picnic blanket and closed my eyes. “Yeah, I dunno. He really wanted to give it a shot. I had to beg him to have mercy and let me go; it was too stressful for me.”

“Look at us," Frank said. “We don’t have girlfriends," he gestured to Al. "And Rose is so romantically stunted she can’t handle just dating a normal guy. What’s wrong with us?” It was a quandary genuinely worth considering.

“Speak for yourself, mate,” said Al. “Maybe some of us could have girlfriends if we wanted.”

Frank retorted with something about how of course the famous Albus Potter would be able to get any girl he wants, but I was dozing off at this point, drowsy from my full belly and the warmth of the sun.

On our way back up to the castle, I took a detour by the greenhouse, wanting to check on a Herbology assignment, the last thing I had due before the term’s end. I found Nicolette Blackburn, a Ravenclaw sixth year, snipping at a suspicious looking plant. She saw me and quickly (and rather dangerously) hid the shears behind her back.

Upon seeing my inquisitive expression, she said, “I know that as a Prefect, you should investigate and report me, but I’m just getting a wee bit of pollen from the Pastadorius for totally harmless reasons, I swear.” Nicolette was engaged in a long-running prank war with my cousin, James, and this was no doubt apart of another battle. I doubted she was concocting anything more malicious than a sneezing powder, so I gave her a warning eyebrow and left her to her scheming.

* * *

 

“Rose, about your birthday,” said Cam, sitting down on the opposite end of our table at the last dinner of the term. He wrapped his arm around Andie and she snuggled into the crook of his neck.

For my sixteenth birthday, my parents suggested we do a big, fun party. Usually my birthday is a pretty small affair, but this year I thought invite people from Hogwarts along with all the family, in itself a large number of people. I had invited Cam as an extension of Andie.

“Did you happen to invite Scorpius?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Malfoy and I had been peaceful lately, but I had hardly thought to invite him into my home to celebrate my existence. It seemed too sincere an experience for our relationship.

“Uh, I hadn’t thought to,” I said.

“Right, of course. I just wanted to know if he was going before I invited him to come with Andie and I,” he chuckled a little. “I can’t keep track of when you guys are best friends or arch enemies.”

“Well, I mean, we’ve been fine lately. Lots of people from school are going to be there, so if you want him to come, I don’t really care.”

Frank shot me a look of surprise. Knowing him as well as I did, I could work out what he was thinking: _“Cam has the audacity to force Malfoy into your party? And you're agreeing to invite the aforementioned nemesis solely as a favor to someone you really barely know??”_

 _“We need to at least try to try and connect with Andie’s boyfriend,”_ I tried to telepathically respond.

Cam interrupted us with actual, verbal communication. “You really don’t have to feel any obligation. I was just checking.”

“No, it’s fine. There’ll be lots of people from school, so it’s not weird. Just bring him along.”

“Should be interesting…” Al mumbled into his soup. Al was on the friendliest terms with Scorpius but he hadn’t exactly invited him home to meet the family.

There was a yelp from down the table and we glanced over to see James itching ferociously. He was vibrating, his mane of messy curls springing around wildly as he attempted to scratch all of his body at once. He was practically tearing his jumper off. I made eye contact with Nicolette over at the Ravenclaw table and she quickly looked away. James was now sprinting out of the Great Hall, no doubt to go jump in the lake.

* * *

On the balmy August day of the party, Mum and I began preparations. She strode around the yard, flicking her wand and moving tables and chairs into place. I followed behind, manually making adjustments and arranging the floral centerpieces she was manifesting out of thin air.

“I like the hydrangeas,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “But are they too much?”

“Maybe daisies,” I offered. “Simple, summery.”

She pursed her lips in consideration. Then, with a stroke of her wand, the big arrangements were transformed into sweet little bouquets of daisies. Baby’s breath popped up out of nowhere to join them, a punctuation mark on the whole look. Mum exhaled in satisfaction and glanced at her watch. “Rose, it’s quarter-to, you better go dress.”

As usual, I had procrastinated getting ready until the last minute. As I dashed into the house, the fireplace lit up and coughed out the Potter family. Uncle Harry immediately gave me a big hug and wished me a very happy birthday. Aunt Ginny kissed me on the top of my head and said, “Rose, look at you, more and more gorgeous.”

“Merlin, she looks like Hermione,” said Uncle Harry, tilting his head sentimentally.

“You sure you got your glasses on Harry?” said my dad, emerging from the other room. “I’m pretty sure she gets her good looks from me.” He pulled me into a dad-hug.

“Alright, alright.” I squirmed. “Leave me be. I have to go make myself presentable,” I said and ran up the stairs to my room, Lily hot on my trail.

“What are you going to wear?” she asked, invading my closet. She looked cute, as always, in fashionable little shorts, a floaty blouse and wedge sandals. Her long, dark red hair was pulled up in a fancy ponytail. What was fancy about it? Don’t ask me, I couldn’t tell you. I just know that when I pull my hair into a ponytail it looks like a last resort, not a style.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” I said, wincing at the lecture I knew was coming.

“This is your birthday party,” she said, exasperatedly. “You’re the center of attention today. Everyone is going to be here, including hot guys, you need to look your best!”

“Hot guys…?” I asked.

She ignored me, rifling through all my clothes until she pulled out an white sundress. “What is this? I’ve never seen this.”

“Well, it’s a dress. I never wear it.”

“Today’s the day,” she said, tossing at my face. “None of these shoes will do,” she said frowning at my comfortable trainers and sensible flats. She looked down at her own cute shoes. “I’m going to get my mom to transfigure these to fit your gigantic feet. There’s not enough time to do everything that needs to be done!” Sometimes it felt like Lily took personal offense to the lack of effort I put into my appearance. She strode out of the room in search of back-up while I put the dress on.

I was turning back in forth in the mirror, concerned by the amount of cleavage displayed, when there was a knock. “Rose, it’s Elizabeth. Lily sent me,” the Longbottom girl said on the other side of the door.

“Please come in! I need help,” I chuckled. I gestured to the area in question. “Too much boob? Definitely too much boob, what do I do?”

“Whoa. What I wouldn’t give for actual boobs,” she sighed, sitting on the bed, make-up bag in hand. Lily entered in shortly after.

“No, you have such a petite, slender figure. These are such a nuisance,” I said to Elizabeth.

“I remember Dom having to break the news to you that you had boobs when you were like in fourth year,” Lily said.

I nodded to Elizabeth. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I think the dress is great; you look super fit,” Lily said assuringly.

“Well, if you think so…then I need to change.” I said, getting up and lunging towards the closet.

“No! Hang on, I’ll get a proper witch to come and just alter it a little, deal?”

I “humfp’d” in agreement, slouching onto the bed.

Elizabeth began skimming through her supplies as Lily disappeared again.“Close your eyes,” she said, and I obeyed. She drew some stuff on me and swept little brushstrokes across my face. I couldn’t tell what was happening but it was relaxing. She announced she was finished and I opened my eyes to examine her handiwork.

I now understood why people were always harping on me to try harder—it really did make a difference. My skin was even-toned and my brows looked more shapely. Whatever she had done to my eyes made them appear larger and the hazel popped. It was a pleasant effect, but it almost made me sad. I was facing the glaring contrast between Pretty Rose, who had to be created, and Regular Rose, a much less appealing version and, incidentally, who I am. I thanked her though and complemented her on her artistic skill. She smiled.

Being a completely adorable creature, she was Pretty Elizabeth all the time. Her brown hair was piled up on her head in a perfectly messy bun and she wore a floaty summer dress with a cute Peter Pan collar. Every single thing about her ensemble was firmly in the “I Could Never Pull That Off” category. “No problem. And happy birthday!”

There was a knock and we turned to see that it was Hugo peeking in the door now, his ears red. “Hey, Elizabeth. When did you guys get here?” My brother’s crush on Elizabeth had been going on as long as anyone could remember.

“Hey, Hutch, I’m here too you know. I’m only the birthday girl.”

Elizabeth laughed. “We only got here a minute ago. I was immediately whisked in to help with the preparation.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hugo joked. As has been exhibited, my family likes to make fun of me and my appearance and it’s _super hilarious._

“People are starting to arrive though, Rose, you should probably get downstairs,” he said as Lily tore back into the room, dragging my cousin Victorie behind her and holding a pair of my shoes to transfigured for her own feet.

“I think I’m insulted by all the effort going into this,” I said, as Victorie pulled out her wand and started twirling it at an incredible speed, murmuring under her breath until my dress adequately supported my figure and my hair was twisted into an intricate up-do. I twirled my finger along the little curls framing my face. “Wow, thanks. That was amazingly quick.”

She waved her hand like it was no big deal. “These are the kind of spells I’ve had down since I was thirteen.” Victorie was probably the most stunning person I’d ever seen, so I trusted her with beauty stuff. She had perfect, porcelain skin that was somehow an elegant pale rather than my pasty variation. Her eyes were large and clear blue, framed by thick and lustrous lashes. Her silky, silvery blonde hair was in an impressive braided bun and an engagement ring glistened on her finger.

Teddy had proposed over the summer and I was thrilled they were getting married. They made a lovely couple, for one. Plus, ever since they had gotten together, Victorie had become much more pleasant. I mean, I had always loved her, but she had been a bit serious and sometimes surly when we were growing up. When she hooked up with Teddy, she started to come out of her shell and relax a little.

Once Lily deemed me presentable, I headed downstairs with the crew that had been brought in to make me over. My cousins Molly and Lucy had arrived with their respective boyfriends. Molly ran over to me and scooped me up into a hug, spinning me around, somehow lifting me, despite being very petite and much shorter than me. Molly was five years my senior and the most boisterous and mischievous person in the family. Uncle Percy remains befuddled by her to this day, as she takes far more after my Uncle George than her own father. She’d been working at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes since graduating Hogwarts and was thriving there. Her boyfriend, Micah, who works for an agency that designs and manufactures broomsticks, just smiled at me and gave a thumbs up. It was all he could do considering I was still under attack from Molly.

“Rosie Posie!” she said, her bobbed red hair swinging. “You’re such a woman! Va va voom,” she said, cupping my breasts and lifting them.

“Molly, honestly,” Lucy said, yanking her away, which I appreciated greatly. Molly was the obligatory embarrassing family member who never cared about crossing lines. Lucy, always tactful, pulled me into a hug, giving me a chance to let the blush fade. Lucy was serious and studious, a Slytherin, with her sights set on a high-level Minsitry position, leaving little time for frivolity. You can imagine how Uncle Percy felt about her.

Molly’s button nose wrinkled. “I smell food.” She dragged Micah away and Lucy and her boyfriend followed, wishing me a happy birthday as they went.

I made my way through a growing crowd towards the backyard. My parents throw pretty wonderful parties. My mum is great at organizing and setting up and my dad’s endearing charm keeps the people entertained. I stepped down into the garden to make my rounds, treading carefully to avoid falling in my heels. I meandered over to where Dom and Louis stood chatting. Dom looked lovely in a sundress, her long sandy blonde hair cascading down her back and a too-tan-to-be-a-Weasley skin golden in the sun. Louis was his usual handsome self and he knew it; his hair perfectly tousled and his shirt a little too unbuttoned.

“There’s the birthday girl!” Dom grinned, pulling me in for a hug. “You look gorgeous, Rose!” There was a definite tone of surprise there.

“Thanks,” I said. “How’s your summer been? I’ve barely seen you at all!” I said.

“Our entire lives have been consumed by wedding stuff,” she grumbled. “Victorie’s been surprisingly relaxed about it, but Grandma and my mum are in a frenzy. Everything is color palettes and, ‘But does that go with the theme?’ and lace.”

“All this fuss just so they can tie themselves down for the rest of their lives,” Louis said, exasperatedly.

“The cynical, perpetual bachelor act is getting a little worn out, don’t you think?” Chrissie Parker approached us, our cousin Fred behind her.

“You’re only lashing out at me because you two are so excruciatingly monogamous,” Louis replied. Fred and Chrissie had been dating for about two years now and were a bloody impressive couple. Fred was gorgeous— tall, with smooth, dark skin, and a perfect smile— and, alongside Louis, a new recruit of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Chrissie was working as an aid in the Magical Law Department. My mother had taken a real liking to her and it was clear why, considering she was a brilliant, self-possessed woman from a Muggle upbringing.

“How’s work?” I asked.

“It’s been busy. We’re pretty low-level employees so we don’t see tons of action, but we did overlook the suspension of the Wimbourne Wasps Beater Carl Montenegro the other day," Fred said.

“Excessive violence,” Louis explained.

“Typical Wimbourne behavior,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“But we love it. I can’t imagine having some stuffy job in like a law office or something,” Louis said, shooting a pointed look at Chrissie.

“Oh, this is awkward, since I’m making twice the Galleons you are,” Chrissie said with her customary sass.

“And Dom, I hear you’ve been training for Quidditch a lot? I barely see Al; you guys are hogging him,” I said. James, Dom, Roxanne and Jake were all on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Roxanne was a phenomenal Seeker and we expected her to go pro after Hogwarts. James and Dom were Chasers (the third was Brian Fletcher), Jake was a Beater and Peter was the Keeper, until he graduated in the spring.

Fred, Louis, and Chrissie departed, making room for James, who joined Dom and I.

“With Peter off there’s an open Keeper position next year, so we’re pushing for Al to claim it. All this training has been a great distraction from the fact that everyone around me is grown-up and living an exciting life and I’m sitting around waiting to go back to school,” Dom said.

I could guess why she felt that way, between everyone’s fixation on Victorie’s wedding and the fact that her inability to decide what to do about Peter had ended up costing her their friendship. After his feelings for her were exposed, she wouldn’t turn him down and she wouldn’t let him go, so eventually he cut her off. He took a job in South Africa, citing a need for new scenery and some adventure.

James ignored Dom’s moment of vulnerability and went on about Quiddtich. “I want as many Potter-Weasleys on the team as possible. One year where the entire team is comprised of Potter-Weasleys. It would be legendary!” James said.

“We’ll unfortunately Jake isn’t actually part of the family,” I said.

“Technicality,” said James, waving his hand, like he was physically brushing off my comment. “Plus, I’m planning on marrying one of you off to him and then it’ll be official.”

“Not it,” Dom said quickly.

At that moment, Roxie and Jake came over to join us, each wishing me a happy birthday. She was gorgeous in vibrant coral; her curls endearingly escaping her side braid. Jake was in a plaid button-down that complimented his burly figure.

"Not it for what?” Jake asked.

“Marrying you,” said Dom straightforwardly.

“I’m trying to get one of them to marry you so that our legendary bromance can evolve into legitimate family,” James explained. “It worked for our dads,” he said, gesturing to me.

“What do you mean ‘trying to get’, aren’t they all fighting over me?”

“That’s what I thought, mate. They just apparently don’t see what I see. Or at least Dom doesn’t.”

Dom shrugged.

“What do you say, Roxie?” Jake said, turning to my cousin. “Wanna marry me?” he said, a charming half-smirk on his face. Even though my crush was a juvenile one, he was still very charming, particularly in that moment.

Roxie considered. “I dunno, what am I getting out of it?”

Gesturing to his impressive physique, he said, “Helllllooo…”

Roxie looked impassive. “You’d really have to charm me.”

“You want me to woo you?” Jake said, eager to take on the challenge. Roxie just raised her eyebrows, daring him. “You just wait,” he said, and strode off. We all exchanged looks.

“Have you heard how Peter likes his new job?” Dom quietly asked me aside.

“Frank said he’s doing really well. He loves Cape Town and, you know, he’s so friendly. He won’t have any trouble making friends.” I tried to keep it light, gauging her reaction.

She looked at her hands and softly said, “I think I might have made a mistake.”

I put my hand on the tall blonde’s shoulder. “Maybe the timing just wasn’t right. This way Peter gets to grow and have this great experience and you can think about what you want. And after graduation anything can happen,” I said.

“As long as I don’t decide that what I want is him right after he outgrows me,” she said.

I gave her a look of sympathy. It was entirely possible he wouldn't be waiting around for her. Someone was going to realize soon what a great guy he was and it could be too late for Dom.

Then, music swelled, filling the backyard. The four of us turned to see an orchestra of instruments playing themselves and a little dance floor. Jake was standing proudly next to them, bowing and asking Roxie for a dance. I’d never seen my cousin flustered before. Always cool and confident, in this moment she was at a loss for a snarky remark. He had simply stunned her into accepting and soon they were dancing to everyone’s applause.

Soon, others joined them on the dance floor, including Molly and Micah, dancing far too exuberantly for the slow, romantic tune the instruments were bewitched to play. Uncle Percy promptly dragged them off the dance floor. James invited me to dance and I accepted, despite the fact that I was an abysmal dancer. James was quite good, however, so he almost camouflaged my clumsiness. Aunt Ginny had made sure her sons knew how to dance.

Frank was being pulled onto the dance floor by his youngest sister, sweet and enthusiastic Alice. James and I swung past Teddy and Victorie dancing, her head resting on his chest. Teddy was very tall and thin with mousy brown hair that was red for the occasion. He grinned at me and mouthed, “Happy birthday.” I also noticed my parents dancing and smiled. My dad kept suddenly dipping Mum when she least expected it and she was flapping her arms and telling him to stop.

Alice soon broke off from Frank, shimmied in between me and James and swiped his position as my dance partner, giggling. Alice had the kind of smile that took over her whole face so you could barely see her eyes. James shrugged, tried to dance with Frank, who shoved him away, and left the dance floor laughing. Frank picked Alice up and carried her away from me, returning to dance with me himself.

His hair had grown out long and curly over the summer and his face had lost some of the baby fat and the overall effect was pleasant. He still had the same ears that stuck out, but had otherwise come into his own. He had a rough summer with Peter leaving and Andie and Cam driving him crazy. I gave him a bone-crushing hug, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for my best friend.

“Ow, ok, Rose. I think that’s good. You’ve successfully shattered my bones…and there go my organ functions.” I broke off, grinning at him. “Hey, birthday girl,” he said, softly.

“Hey,” I smiled. We danced badly until the song ended and Jake transfigured the orchestra into rock instruments. We then proceeded to dance around wildly like dorks as more people filled out the dance floor. Al joined us and we each tried to outdo one another in inventing the most ridiculous dance moves. A glance towards the house mid-dance showed me Andie coming into the backyard, followed by Cam and Malfoy. I immediately stopped impersonating a marionette and Al and Frank turned to see what I was staring at.

Andie waved and rushed over, hugging me excitedly. “Happy birthday Rosie!! The place looks adorable!” I thanked her, while Cam and Malfoy stood awkwardly nearby. Cam waved sheepishly and Malfoy looked like he was wondering why he came. I hadn’t been sure he would, as I hadn’t heard anything about it since Cam asked me.

“I’m gonna go put our present on the table over there, be right back,” Andie said, scurrying off, Cam close behind her.

“They got a joint present? Bloody hell,” Frank mumbled under his breath.

Malfoy held up a package, neatly wrapped in Daily Prophet articles and tied with a little string. I tried to imagine Malfoy at his desk, intently wrapping a present for me. “I got you something as well,” he blushed. He blushed! Ha! For once he was the uncomfortable one. “It’s a book. Flitwick mentioned to me that it would be useful for N.E.W.T Charms, but it’s not on the required list. I thought you might want it.” He sounded embarrassed.

“Well, thanks for robbing me of the surprise,” I said. “But, actually, thanks. That’ll be great. You didn’t have to do that.”

Malfoy shrugged. “How’d you do on your O.W.Ls?”

“Not bad, “ I said, immediately reverting into competitive school mode. “Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, Defense and Muggle Studies all O’s. E’s in Astronomy, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures and A’s in Potions and Arithmancy. You?”

“O’s for Defense, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies. Oh and Charms. And Transfiguration, Astronomy and Herbology were E’s. A in History of Magic.”

We paused, both mentally comparing our scores. It was about even. I took one more class than him, so I got one more A than him.

“I’ll just go put this with the other gifts,” he said, a smile twitching on his face.

After he left, I found I couldn’t dance anymore. “I’m going to get something to eat,” I said to Al and Frank. “Oh and Frank, maybe find time today to talk to Dom. I think you’re the two people who miss Peter the most and could commiserate.”

I meandered towards the snacks table, where my Grandma Molly bombarded me, squeezing and kissing me over and over and telling me how proud everyone was of me. Granddad joined us, giving me a warm hug and wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. They both stood there, beaming at me, wrinkles around their eyes. I wonder if they knew Malfoy was here.

It then occurred to me that, if I was remembering correctly, my grandma, the sweet and loving woman who had been forcing me to drink my milk for strong bones and pose for her pictures all my life, had killed Malfoy’s aunt. Or I guess it would be his great-aunt? I had always considered this her badass contribution to the war and I knew Bellatrix Lestrange had been a right nasty piece of work. But it got me thinking about how a mere generation separated us from that reality. A reality in which the Malfoys and the Weasleys were on the opposite sides of a war. My grandma had killed his great-aunt. His grandfather conspired to kill my parents and uncle on multiple occasions. My mother punched his father in the face (my dad loves to tell that story).

“Ooooh, Rosie,” I heard from behind me. I turned to find Molly, grinning. “Don't think I didn't see you with the Malfoy boy there. Romantic liaisons with the enemy, scandalous! I love it. Finally, a little bit of edge from you.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I didn’t even have the energy to explain the truth of the situation. I simply said, “Not a liaison and not really the enemy either.”

She ignored me. “A torrid, forbidden affair. His father will disown him. Her family won’t approve. The Nerd Club will revoke her membership for finally doing something cool. But nothing can stop these two young lovers,” she narrated, as if reading the description on the back of a book. I gave her a little shove and walked away, determined not to let anyone get a rise out of me. Well, actually, I scuttled back to the snacks table and grabbed a handful of pretzels, and _then_ I took my leave of her, still very dignified though.

After over indulging in snacks, I went inside and spotted Malfoy in the living room. He was standing away from the crowd with his hands behind his back, looking at the pictures above our fireplace.

On the mantelpiece stood several moving photos. There was one of the entire Weasley family on my Dad’s fortieth birthday, one of Hugo and I with Granddad and Grandma Granger, a lovely one of my parents kissing at their wedding, but my favorite was one of my Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry at Hogwarts in their school robes. They were so small and adorable and I loved seeing my parents before they were my parents, when they were just two kids who didn’t know they were in love.

Malfoy turned and saw me hanging in the entrance way, so I walked over to where he stood. “Nice photos." He paused and then said, “It must be so interesting, growing up in such an illustrious family.”

I furrowed my brow and opened my mouth to retort, but Malfoy recognized my expression and stopped me. “I didn’t mean it in a sarcastic or contemptuous way. I sincerely was wondering what it would be like growing up considering the most famous and respected heroes of our time just… normal family.”

I couldn’t say what I was thinking— that I wondered what it was like being raised by a former Death Eater.

“Actually, we have very urgent business to attend to, Weasley,” he said solemnly. My lips parted and eyebrows raised. “You owe me a tour. You got to see my room, now it’s your turn.”

I blushed. Malfoy in my room seemed about as natural as a giraffe in the Arctic. “It’s my birthday. I don’t owe you anything,” I said folding my arms.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” he said, playfully. He looked around. “If you don’t want to show me, I’ll just explore ‘til I find it.” I think that was the same thing I had said to him. The thought of him wandering around my house, which was currently filled with people predisposed to hate him, was unsettling.

Begrudgingly, I walked out of the room and up the stairs and Malfoy followed behind, smug and skipping. We reached the last door on the left and with one last look of annoyance, I opened it. I wish I was a) seventeen and allowed to practice magic outside school and b) an accomplished Legilimens and able to read his mind. I was so keen to know what he was thinking. 


	11. A Malfoy in Queen Weasley's Court

Weasley’s room was bright and airy, painted lilac and bathed in sunlight that streamed in through windows that faced the backyard. There was a small bed that was pressed against the wall, piled with pillows. Three things dominated the room, books (books everywhere, overflowing out of a bookshelf, stacked on the nightstand, peeking out of the closet) pictures, and Snitches.

“What’s with the Snitches?” I asked.

There was a stuffed Snitch sitting on the bed, some Snitch tacks pinning pictures to a corkboard, little lights in the shape of Snitches strung up, and an actual Snitch, which looked very old, sitting in a little holder on the bookshelf. Weasley was passionate about Quidditch, but she wasn’t much of a player and when she played for fun it wasn’t as a Seeker.

“Oh, when I was little I was really into Snitches,” she said. “Just one of those kid things.”

I chuckled, continuing to rifle through her things.

“Nose down, Malfoy, I know you were obsessed with dragons when you were little, same thing.”

In an admittedly whiny voice, I said, “Stop corresponding with my mother! And no, it’s not the same, because dragons are bloody awesome and Snitches are about as common and numerous as freckles at this party.”

She perched on an armchair in the corner while I moved to inspect the magical phonograph sitting on a trunk at the base of her bed. I lifted the needle and played the record that was already on. Music stirred and emerged— playing in that rich, scratchy tone that record players provide.

I turned towards her, eyebrow cocked suspiciously. “Be honest with me. Were you actually recently listening to this obscure, Muggle soul music that must be a half century old? Or did you consciously choose it in case people came to your room because it’s cool and cultured?”

She looked surprised for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You’re exactly right. Merlin, how did you know? To be fair, I do really love this record.”

“But I’m assuming the rest of your collection is a lot more embarrassing.”

“Exactly.”

I smiled to myself as I turned back to explore, examining the multitude of pictures and swaying to the music cheekily. Her corkboard was covered in pictures and various keepsakes: Quidditch tickets, a Leaky cauldron coaster, a Gryffindor banner, a few scraps of paper with quotes or poems written on them, and a Puddlemore United pin. It was so personal, standing in her room and looking at her life. There was a picture of her, probably about seven years old, toothless and grinning, in overalls and pigtails, triumphantly holding up a large, dripping plant knee deep in a swamp. Next to her was a waving Professor Longbottom and a sopping wet Frank who kept tripping and falling in the water. The proud little girl in the picture humanized Weasley for me. I couldn’t taunt her while that little be freckled mess grinned at me through the picture.

My eye was drawn to another picture, not on display, but on top of a pile on the dresser. It was Weasley, preparing for what looked like last year’s Christmas Ball. She was leaning over a vanity, looking in the mirror as she put an earring in. Then, taking notice of the camera, she laughed and waved her hands as if to shoo the photographer away. I watched her do this in the picture several times and was struck by a strange sensation, almost like nervousness. The cognitive dissonance of the whole thing—being in her room, on her birthday, watching pictures of her getting ready, yet knowing our long history of conflict— was straining my nerves.

There was something too intimate about it. I felt like I had to confront, in that moment, whether or not there was real friendship between us? Real regard? Did I like this person? I was pulled out of my puzzling reverie by her voice.

“Oh gosh, I’m so behind on my photo organizing. All those need to be sorted and put into albums. Most of them are pretty boring, I think.”

I kept flipping through the pile. There was one of her in a hat and scarf in the snow, running around catching snowflakes on her tongue and laughing. She fell over at the end of the loop. I had suppress the smile that twitched on my mouth. In the shuffling, I came across one that provoked a smirk, this one unstoppable. Slowly, I turned around to face Weasley.

“What?” she said warily.

“You said there was nothing interesting in here,” I said, still grinning impishly. “I must disagree.”

“What is it? I told you, I haven’t looked through that pile in ages!”

I turned the picture around and she immediately flushed bright red. It was the picture her cousin James had taken when we had kissed under the enchanted mistletoe in fourth year. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. In the picture, Weasley was busy panicking when I suddenly grabbed her face and kissed her. Her arms tentatively wrapped around my neck and I instinctively seized her waist and pulled her close. A barely imperceptible shudder passed through me. I had forgotten how heated it had gotten

Weasley watched, transfixed in horror.

She snapped out of it. “I completely forgot James gave that to me. I’m surprised I didn’t immediately tear it to shreds on contact.”

“Ah, but how could you part with the documentation of the best moment of your life?” I said. I was teasing her, but as I glanced back down at the picture, I became aware that we were alone, in her room, nearly touching. She was clad in an uncharacteristically skimpy dress, so there was lots of bare skin very close to me. Her hair, shining red in the sunlight, was escaping her pins in soft little curls. Sexy R&B was floating out of the phonograph. A sensation arose in my stomach, something akin to to pre-exam stress.

She snatched the picture from me and tore it cleanly down the middle. “There.”

“Come on, Weasley,” I said, picking up the pieces off the ground and stuffing them in my pocket, holding her back as she tried to stop me. “You know that was the best kiss you’ve ever had. You can’t tell me _Oliver Breckenridge_ was a good snog.”

She looked defiant for a moment but then broke, laughing into her hands. “Oliver was, admittedly, overly aggressive with his tongue,” she said, miming gagging. “But what makes you think,” she poked me in the chest, “that you’re the only two?”

“Have there been others then?” I said, eyebrow cocked and heart rate increased.

I knew that she knew that I knew her too well and she couldn’t convincingly lie to me. Her face scrunched into a little frustrated smile. “No… but it doesn’t mean kissing you was in anyway enjoyable.”

That was a lie.

“I could change your mind,” I said, slowly closing the limited amount of distance between us.

“No, you couldn’t,” she said, jutting her chin out confidently, but I could see the nervousness in her eyes. I slowly ran the back of two fingers down her arm and was met with instant goosebumps. My other arm quickly snaked around her waist and drew her close. Her surprised exhalation brought my attention to the ample cleavage now pressed against me, heaving tauntingly. Her eyes met mine, for a moment unguarded and vulnerable. I was a split-second from bending to kiss her, when she wriggled out of my grasp and walked a few paces away.

She spoke clearly, but was flushed and breathing heavily. “This is just like us! We get so worked up and competitive that we nearly do something entirely unthinkable, just to prove the other wrong.” I was silent, refusing to lighten the tension by speaking. She gazed at me, the amused expression slowly melting into an anxious one.

I spared us both. “We should probably get back down there before our absence is noticed. Don’t want them to think we’re…well, doing exactly what we were just about to do,” I said, rubbing my hand across my neck. She laughed weakly and we both exited the room in a hurry. I was eager to get out of her company.

What was I to make of this? I grabbed a butterbeer and sat at one of the tables in the backyard, trying to assess the facts.

So, maybe I could be attracted to Weasley—momentarily. Maybe I even enjoyed her company. That didn’t have to mean anything. But it was complicated. The past couple of years I had gained admiration throughout the school by dating as many status-securing girls as I could. Rose Weasley was never an option, as I wasn’t attracted to her and found her, at best, a source of entertainment, at worst, an insufferable annoyance. So, what was I to make of this if it was _possible_ that those things didn’t necessarily apply anymore?

Needing a distraction, I meandered over to Bonnie Quinn, a Ravenclaw in my year and one of Weasley’s Ravenclaw cousins, who was introduced to me as Victorie. The three of us discussed our recent Quidditch Cup win and I relaxed a little, calmed by fellow logical intellectuals and the talk of success. Victorie was the antithesis of Rose— cool, composed, and elegant.

After I parted with Bonnie and Victorie, I found Albus and we stood, leaning against the porch, watching the partygoers. “So who’s who here? Weasley family crash course,” I said, wondering if there was some pretty Weasley cousin who could take my mind off of this disturbing development with Rose.

“Okay,” said Al, concentrating and crossing his arms. He pointed with his drink. “That’s my Uncle Percy, with one of his daughters, Lucy, and her boyfriend. They all work for the Ministry. Over there— you know Dom and Roxie and James, right?”

There we go. Dominique and Roxanne were both exceptionally hot. I already had the shared interest of Quidditch as an icebreaker. “Victorie,” Al was continuing, “is Dom’s sister, the blonde over there with Teddy Lupin. They’re engaged…” Al was still talking but I wasn’t listening.

Lupin. _Lupin_. That sounded familiar. “Wait,” I said, interrupting him. “Lupin, how do I know that name? Was he at Hogwarts with us?”

“No,” Al said, brow furrowed. “He graduated before we started.”

“Does he have siblings then?”

Al’s expression told me I had tread into sensitive area. “No. No, Teddy was orphaned in the war.” He looked like something had dawned on him.

There was a moment of tension until I said, “What?”

Al paused. “Teddy’s mother was killed by—by her aunt. Bellatrix Lestrange.” His words jolted me like a physical shock.

I had to process. My father’s aunt had been partially responsible for orphaning this bloke _and_ he was related to me. “So, this Lupin guy…he’s my, what? Second cousin?” I said, feeling dizzy. I had forgotten where I was. Who’s company I was keeping. I was with the Weasleys, a family that had not long ago been the direct enemy of my own. We had done horrible things to each other. And I was just faced with another reminder of what my own flesh and blood had committed. I felt sick. I probably looked as miserable as I felt because Al, the ever calm and reasonable guy, clapped me on the back.

“It’s not your fault, mate. Try not to let it worry you.” I couldn’t speak, but thankfully Al carried on pointing out various cousins and aunts and uncles, either ignoring or oblivious to the fact that I was still shaken. Frank Longbottom and Lily Potter joined us, looking upset.

“Just walked in on Cam and Andie snogging,” Frank sulked.

“Who makes out in the bathroom at a party and doesn’t lock the door?” Lily said, grimacing. Lily, who was very pretty and flirtatious, was probably the best option if I wanted to pursue someone here, but my heart just wasn’t in it anymore.

“Merlin, they can’t give it a rest, can they?” said Al.

“They’re like a two-headed monster, if the heads kept trying to snog each other,” his sister replied.

Across the party, I spotted Harry Potter and Hermione Weasley talking. It was surreal and fascinating and terrifying to be at the family gathering of the most famous and admired wizards of our time. My father doesn’t talk about his experiences with them often, except a stray grumble here or there about the media’s ridiculous infatuation with Harry Potter. My mother always said not to press him on his past, as he was deeply ashamed and embarrassed by it.

After the war, my father had dedicated himself to clearing the Malfoy name. He had distanced himself from my grandfather, who spent the rest of his life ruined and isolated. Father had even tried his best not to rely on his ample inheritance, going into private law at an elite, magical firm. He only fully re-embraced the family wealth after Lucius’s death.

The Ministry had surprisingly been glad to welcome my father into their courts when a case would bring him there. They were very motivated to show that the old Pureblood wizarding families were supporting the new order. He had, of course, still married a Pureblood, but I never doubted my parent’s love for each other. My mum had been raised by a Muggle-born stepfather, so she had grown up with a high exposure to and interest in Muggle things. She brought a very different perspective into the Malfoy family. My Granny Cissy had eventually come around to her, even though she made her uncomfortable, but my grandfather had never approved.

Draco Malfoy wasn't the most affectionate father in the world, but he always found time to talk to or play with me. He'd always run Quidditch drills with me, even when he was busy with work. He read me stories and told me tales of famous Malfoys when I was a kid, and shared interesting books and articles with me now. I had never doubted that he loved me, though he didn’t say it all too often.

When I received my Hogwarts letter, he sat me down and gave me a long lecture on how I was going to behave myself at Hogwarts. I must be cordial and respectful to everyone, regardless of House or blood status. We had spent years saving the Malfoy reputation and I was expected to continue to uphold that. My father had squatted down to eye-level to tell me that he knew I would be a great heir and never doubted my ability to protect the family. However, despite years of damage control and arse-kissing, his hard work hadn't fully cleared the Malfoy name. I went to Hogwarts knowing that kids at school would judge me based on the actions of my father and grandfather. Which was why, for the first couple of years, I was a tense, defensive ball of angst.

As I pondered these things, growing surly, I noticed that Harry and Hermione, who were now joined by Ron Weasley as well, were glancing in this direction. They were probably just looking over at their kids, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was me that had their attention. Before I could even process it, they were walking towards us, glancing at each other and talking in a way that made me really feel like I was being singled out. I looked at the others frantically. I was not prepared to talk to them!

And then they were standing in front of us.

“Hi guys, enjoying the party?” said Hermione (Mrs. Weasley? What am I supposed to refer to her as?). There was a little amused smile on her face. The men both had their eyes on me.

“Yeah, thanks so much for having us Auntie ‘Mione,” said Lily. She and the rest of the kids were staring between the adults and I. “….And Uncle Ron… of course…” she said absently, but no one seemed to be paying attention.

“Hello,” said Hermione, looking at me. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced. I’m Hermione, Rose’s mother,” she said, extending her hand.

“Scorpius Malfoy.” I said, shaking her hand. “It’s a pleasure meet you. My mother always speaks very highly of you.” Hermione and my mother both worked in Magical Law Enforcement.

She smiled genuinely. “Oh yes! Astoria is a powerhouse. I’ve very much enjoyed working with her.”

“Yeah, she’s told me about your work and it’s so impressive. The strides you’re making—I hope to do something that meaningful myself.” I said, nervously. What was I saying? Why couldn’t I do casual small talk, why did I have to go full fanboy?

“Oh, do you have an interest in law?” she said, looking sincerely intrigued.

“I’ve been contemplating it more and more recently. Not sure if that’s the field for me yet though.” I wanted to run away from this as fast as I could.

“No, of course, you’ve got time to figure it all out,” she said, smiling.

“Hullo,” said Harry, extending his hand and nearly giving me a heart attack. “I’m Harry Potter,” he said and, after a glance at Ron, who didn’t speak, “and this is Ron. More of Rose’s family. I’m sure you’ve met enough of us today to last you a lifetime.” I shook his hand, gobsmacked that I was shaking Harry Potter’s hand.

“It’s an—an honor to meet you both.” I wondered what my father would think of my being a raging suck-up.

“Rose has told us quite a bit about you,” said Ron, looking stern, but there was something of a smirk hiding in his expression. It was easy to see what he was getting at. Rose had, of course, reported that I was a royal prick, likely extensively.

“Right,” I said, blushing, which was hard for a Malfoy to do, physiologically. “We butted heads a lot as kids,” I said, sheepishly, feeling like an absolute duffer. “But Rose is really great,” I added hastily. Somebody stop me. Hermione looked like she was going to laugh but Ron seemed unable to decide whether this took our relationship in a good or bad direction.

“We’re happy to have you, dear,” said Hermione, signaling the end of the conversation.

After they left, I turned back to Al, Frank and Lily. Al’s eyebrows were raised and he was smirking.

“Save it,” I said.

“Jeez, Scorpius, meet a couple of famous wizards and you totally lose your cool,” he said.

"Oh, you’re my heroes! And Rose is so lovely; she’s my best friend in the whole world!’” said Frank, in high-pitched mockery.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving them off.

“Careful Malfoy, or you’ll lose your reputation,” said Lily. Glancing over to where Teddy Lupin was holding hands with his fiancé, I thought that none of them knew how much I’d like to lose that reputation.

 

After the sun had gone down and we had all eaten way too much, little twinkle lights lit up the yard and people began dancing again. I sat at a table with Hugo, Al, Lily and some miscellaneous Longbottoms, waiting for Cam and Andrea to get tired of dancing so we could go. I had wanted to leave ages ago, ever since that awful interaction with Harry, Ron and Hermione and the discovery of my long lost cousin/victim of my family’s war crimes.

“I’m bored,” Lily said, tapping her glass on the table. “Someone come dance with me." She stood up. The group looked up at her. “Someone not related to me. That would be you, Frank, let’s go.”

“I’m not dancing,” he said, apparently determined to win the Biggest Buzz Kill award. “Malfoy isn’t related to you.”

Lily glanced at me and smiled. “Yeah, like I’m going to start _that_ riot. You’re not getting out of this.” She grabbed Frank and yanked him off the chair, dragging him to the dance floor.

“Frank’s dancing? Now I feel like a wallflower,” said the elder Longbottom girl, slouching.

Al coughed a little before saying, “Well I’ll dance with you.” Longbotttom looked at him in surprise and Al continued, “I mean, if you—you know if that’s what you want.”

The girl smiled and said, “Yeah let’s do it, Al.” There was an awkward pause. “I mean the dancing! You know what I mean.”

Laughing, they got up and joined the others on the dance floor, leaving me alone with Hugo. Usually a pretty confident person, I don’t often feel uncomfortable, but in this case, considering our last interaction, I was feeling it a little. I focused intently on sipping my cider.

Hugo scratched his head and grinned. “Now, I don’t suppose you’re gonna ask me to dance?” I choked on my drink a little.

Laughing and dabbing my face with a napkin I said, “I hadn’t planned on it, mate, but that’s only cause I didn’t know you were interested.”

Hugo grinned and popped an appetizer in his mouth. The boy was eating something nearly every time I saw him. Chewing, he said, “You know, I never got to thank you for, uh, grabbing me at the match when I fell. So, thanks for that.”

“Oh,” I groaned. “I was going to say I never got to apologize for that embarrassing incident.”

“Nah, mate, I appreciated it, really. It could have been bad.” I nodded, grateful that he didn’t think I was a total weirdo. “Congrats on taking home the Cup, by the way,” he said.

“Thanks, you guys put up a good fight.”

“McGuiness is a wicked brilliant Seeker. I really didn’t stand a chance,” Hugo said, humbly.

“Ah, but Craig is a seventh year, so we’re losing him next year, unfortunately,” I said.

Before Hugo could respond, Weasley sat down at our table. “Bloody. Hell.” She took off her heeled shoes. “It’s not worth the pain.” She grabbed two of the appetizers and slouched back in her chair. Come to think of it, she also was eating a good majority of the time. Ran in the family, I suppose.

We were joined by James and Roxanne as well, who sat down across from us. I could get along with Al and sometimes Lily and the Longbottoms, but had interacted very little with the older Weasley cousins. It was odd to be sitting here with Weasley and her family, without any buffers.

“Why don’t you guys get out on the dance floor?” James said, gesturing at Weasley and I. My stomach gave a nervous little flip.

Weasley, who was in the process of removing the multitude of pins that were holding her hair up, scoffed exaggeratedly. “Yeah, right.”

“Come on, Potter. Rose would never do anything as bold and crazy as dance with anyone, let alone a Malfoy, in front of the whole family,” Roxanne said, as if I wasn’t sitting right there.

They were playing her like a fiddle. Weasley’s competitive nature coupled with her self-conciousness about not being brave enough to be a Gryffindor essentially guaranteed they were going to get a reaction out of her. There was no greater hotbed of brave and adventurous Gryffindors than a Weasley family gathering, so it had to be an especially potent anxiety tonight.

“How about I don’t want to? Don’t act like dancing with him would be some amazing feat of courage,” she said, but I could see she was unable to resist taking the bait.

“You would never,” said James.

“I can admit Blonide’s a fit bloke; I’d take him for a spin,” Roxanne said. I perked up at this prospect. Weasley shot me a warning look. “But I’m just not the kind of person who worries about what everyone thinks.”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” Weasley said, nearly trembling under the strain of caring so much.

“Yeah, but think about your dad. Obedient little Rosie Posie would never do anything to disturb Uncle Ron,” James said.

“You know what?” Rose said, smacking her hand on the table. James smirked; he knew he had her. “I love my dad and I’m glad I don’t actively upset him. But I am also not as predictable as you guys think.” She stood and seized me by the collar, hoisting me to my feet. It was clear that my feelings on the matter were not relevant.

She strode out into the cluster of dancers with such purpose, I almost admired her pigheadedness. The self-playing instruments had struck up a slow, romantic tune and the floor had dwindled to couples, pretty much all of whom did a double take upon seeing Weasley and I joining them.

She looked at me helplessly and I sighed, placing her hand on my shoulder and grasping the other. My free hand rested lightly on her back. I was certainly going to keep it very respectful, considering I was surrounded by brilliant, protective, deadly wizards of world renown. She seemed uncomfortable, even a little bit disgusted. We were dramatically out of sync— she pushed when she was supposed to pull and stepped on my foot more than once.

After several seconds of struggling, I said to her, “For Merlin’s sake, let me lead! Just relax and follow me; stop trying to steer.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but neither of us fancied making a scene. And she clearly _was_ a horrendous dancer. I could feel her ease a little, relaxing her left hand, so that her arm kind of curled around my shoulder. My firm hand on her back pulled her up against me and I bent my extended arm so that our clasped hands relaxed closer to our bodies as well. Once we were more naturally positioned, I was able to smoothly guide us around a small area of the dance floor. I tried not to think about the crowd staring.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if I had been dancing with people all night; now it’s like you’re special or something,” she grumbled.

“How do you think I feel? It’s not you they’re all scrutinizing,” I whispered into her ear.

Aiming to take her mind off all the people in our peripherals, I pivoted suddenly so that we spun around. She giggled in surprise, a painfully feminine sound. I did that a few more times, swirling us around the outskirts of the dance floor.

“Ready?” I asked her.

“What?” She looked up at me with a mix of apprehension and confusion. In a quick maneuver, I separated from her and grabbed her hands, twirling her around and dropping her into a dip that she wasn't entirely prepared for. Thankfully, we were relying on my strength and skill, not hers.

I returned us to our original position and, breathlessly, she said, “Damn it, that was fun.”

I smiled flirtatiously, unconsciously unleashing my full Charm and Seduction package with another whirl. “I’ve been known to show a lady a good time,” I said, almost instantly wishing I hadn’t. I needed to stop flirting with her before this got even more confusing.

“Yeah, I know what kind of time you show girls,” she said, yawning.

I taught her how to do a few more moves until she sort of got the hang of it. The music diminished to a harp and softly strumming guitar. We slowed to a sway and, with a sleepy sigh, she rested her head against my chest. I reconfigured so that both my hands were around her waist and her arms were curled around my shoulders, although I was practically holding her up she was getting so tired. Despite the stressful environment, my eyes were beginning to droop as well and I allowed myself to gently rest my chin on her head. Her hair, down and wild now, smelled pleasant and sweet and before I could censor myself, I mumbled drowsily into said hair, “You smell like apples.”

“I’m ignoring that, for both our sakes.”

We continued to sway softly (and wisely, silently) until the music died. I was reluctant to let go and face the crowd and Weasley seemed to have the same thought because she clung to me and made a disgruntled noise against my chest.

The people came to us before we had to go to them. “Ok, kids, smile!” said Ginevra Potter enthusiastically, holding up a camera that appeared to be of the Muggle variation.

Weasley broke away from me and brushed her hair out of her face, flustered. “No, Auntie Ginny, please.”

“It’s your sixteenth birthday, Rose, obligatory pictures are a part of the deal,” she said, with something of a taunting tone and motioned for us to scoot back together. Weasley looked around, gesturing for people to join in the picture, but no one was throwing her a lifeline. 

“It’s for Grandma and Grandpa Granger! Don’t deprive them of this special day in their granddaughter’s life,” Ginevra implored, going full guilt-trip. I couldn’t help but think Grandma and Grandpa Granger could care less about me, but I wasn’t about to argue with Ginevra Potter, famous, beautiful badass.

“I’ve posed for about a million pictures today. I don’t think my face muscles can manage a smile!” Yet, Weasley shuffled over to me and snuggled against me. I put my arm around her out of picture-posing instinct. Ginevra smirked with satisfaction. “One, two, three, smile!” The flash momentarily blinded me and through the clearing white spots in my eyes I could make out Ginevra looking at the picture and saying, “Oh, lovely.”

Weasley scoffed as her aunt moved on. “Yeah, a classic, I’m sure,” she said sarcastically. “She was totally messing with us. She’s probably going to make a bunch of copies for my dad.”

“One for the reject pile on your dresser,” I said. She grimaced and nodded.

As we made our way back to the tables she said, “I think what we learned is that we should never make physical contact again.”

Before I could respond, Cam and Andrea intercepted us. “Happy birthday Rose! Thanks for a great party!” Andrea said, hugging her. “You looked like you were having a fun night,” she said, with a little bit of a teasing smile.

“You guys taking off?” Weasley asked.

“Yeah, you ready, Scor?” Cam said, also looking amused.

I nodded, grabbing my jacket off the chair. After hugging Cam, Weasley turned to me. “Ok, last time,” she said, pulling me into a quick hug. “Thanks for the book, although you’re mad if you think you’re copying off me.”

“Don’t need to, Weasley, you know that,” I said, as I started to walk away. “Happy birthday though!” I shouted over the crowd that now parted us. She waved exasperatedly and sat down again with Al and Frank.

After one last look around, we Floo’d back to Cam’s house, where I was undoubtably to be promptly sent home so Cam and Andrea could snog.

* * *

A week later, I was packing in my room when a vaguely familiar owl fluttered in through my open window. Erasmus, our cat, made a gurgling noise of unhappiness and leapt off my bed and out of the room. My own owl, Hercules, begrudgingly made room for the newcomer on his perch. I gave them both a treat and untied the letter around it’s foot.

I recognized Weasley’s handwriting immediately, as I had been working alongside it for years, but seeing my name written in her neat, round letters was new.

_Malfoy--_

_Thanks again for the book; I’ve been digging into it already. We’re really in for it this year._

_You made quite an impression at the party. You wouldn’t believe the interrogation I had to endure after that dance, but the whole thing is actually pretty funny. Oh and I've got some elderly aunts that were expressing interest if you want me to fix you up._

_See you soon, we’re going to have a huge challenge in front of us this year. Hope the rest of your summer is pleasant and give your mother my love._

_\--Rose_

Enclosed was the picture her aunt had taken of us. As it had been taken with a Muggle camera for Weasley’s Muggle grandparents, the image was still which was disorienting. We were smiling, frozen, and she was angled into my body. My arm was around her shoulders and hers was around my waist and, I only noticed now (I must have been too distracted in the moment) that her other hand was resting lightly on my chest.

It was affectionate. It only further disturbed the nice lines I had thought my relationship with her were contained within.

I pondered the picture for a moment, then strode across the room to my desk. In the first drawer, under some papers, was the picture of Weasley and I kissing at the ball, which I had repaired with magic. I tossed the second picture in with it and, for good measure, made sure there was a stack of papers covering them. I didn't need Emmie, our house-elf, finding it and getting any ideas she needed to tell my mother about.


	12. Decency

“Rose, heads up!” I heard. I managed to pivot on my broom quickly enough to catch the Quaffle headed my way. I passed it off to Dom as soon as I could, desperate to get rid of the responsibility.

Roxie had asked me to fill in for James as Chaser stand-in while he was on probation for using a hex that had tattooed something vulgar on an opposing player's face. Playing full-time Quidditch had been fun, but bloody challenging. I didn't typically invest so much time into something I was inherently bad at.

Now came the culmination of all the hard work— the first game of the season, up against last year’s champions, Ravenclaw. Malfoy, Ravenclaw’s Keeper, was hovering to the left in front of the goal posts, watching Dom. She faked a shot, but passed the Quaffle to me instead. I was perfectly positioned by the unattended right goal. I didn’t panic and pass it off, I didn’t think it through and consider my options, I simply acted instinctively and took the shot.

It all happened so fast I had barely registered that I had scored until I heard Nicolette Blackburn announce, “That’s a goal for Gryffindor from Rose Weasley.” Malfoy looked surprised, but chuckled a little and tipped an invisible hat to me. Overjoyed with actually scoring on him, I curtsied with my Quidditch robes and sped around the pitch in a little victory lap.

I looked for Roxie, hoping she would find the Snitch and we could win this thing now, before my high was ruined by me screwing something up. The Snitch, however, was nowhere to be found and the game dragged on. By the fifth hour, the match was fairly close and I had scored another three times, but the desperation to end it was getting high. The beaters were exhaustingly hammering Bludgers as the rest of the players flew around the pitch, tense and tired.

I caught an oncoming Quaffle in the stomach with an “Oof,” and swooped down, headed towards the opposite side of the pitch when there was a whoop from above us and Roxie triumphantly circled the pitch with the Snitch in hand. The stands, filled with the bored, but loyal supports that were left, erupted into Gryffindor applause. Amongst high fives, cheers, and the release of a stray Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes firework, we made our way down to the ground.

Roxie was celebrating so exuberantly she looked as if she might punch someone, but instead she launched herself at Jake, climbed him like a squirell shimmies up a tree, and started ferociously snogging him. This only further excited the crowd, who ooh’d and aww’d at the pair. Jake and Roxie were either oblivious to the people around them, or were enjoying the attention and carried on.

There were shouts directing the Gryffindors to an after-party in the common room and the throng began to dissipate. I started towards the castle, stretching my aching body and dreaming of a bath, when I heard Malfoy’s voice say over the crowd, “Impressive, Weasley.”

I turned, beaming. Despite the fact that I was only responsible for somewhere around five percent of Gryffindor’s goals, I was so happy I had scored at all. I smirked and set my hand on my hip in a power pose. “Thank you.” Saying anything sassier could’ve resulted in him mentioning how many of my shots he had deflected.

“Really,” he said, lightly nudging my arm. “Good game.” And that was it. There was another sincere smile and he was off, electing to ride back to the castle on his broom. I made a face of confusion. I had fully expected him to be sour or teasing or at least react to his loss.

After a long soak in a bubble bath to soothe my aching muscles, I checked-in on how things were progressing in the common room. Typically, I find wild parties boring and spend a lot of the time feeling conflicted between loyalty to friends and my duty as a prefect, so I don’t normally spend much time at these sorts of events.

The common room was a loud, sweaty mess and the Firewhisky had certainly been generously distributed. There were a few people from other Houses present— I saw Andie hanging on Cam, Nicolette Blackburn and her Slytherin twin, Silvius, laughing loudly at something James was slurring, Elizabeth Longbottom talking to her brother.

I scooted through the people to where Frank and Elizabeth were and we tried to yell a conversation over the music, but it wasn’t very successful. Al joined us, with drinks for himself and the Longbottoms. He didn’t even have to see my expression to say, “Relax, Rose, they’re really mild. Just warming up after sitting on my arse in the cold all day.”

I did as he said and relaxed. I didn’t have a policy of complete intolerance; I just didn’t want them getting into anything stupid. It had hardly been a half an hour before I was bored and tired. Yawning, I glanced at the stairs to the dormitories. Before I could make any moves towards my inviting bed, Emma Fawley stumbled into me.

She grabbed my arm. “Rose, have you seen Lily?” Emma, a lanky, Persian fourth year, was my cousin’s best friend. I told her I hadn’t and she slouched and ran her hand through her hair. “I’m just a little worried ‘cause I—I haven’t seen her,” she hiccuped, “and she was pretty far gone and she was with Fabian and they left, I think. I don't know.” She hiccuped again.

“Fabian Fenton?” I asked. The seventh year Ravenclaw creeped me out. He would probably be considered attractive by the kind of girls who were into vampire romances, with his dark, angular features, but there was something smarmy and creepy about him that bothered me.

Emma nodded. “I shouldn’t have let her leave with him like that.” My brows furrowed and my eyes narrowed.

Grabbing Al’s attention, I filled him in on the situation. His expression was one of discomfort. “What do you want me to do, Rose?”

“She can’t just get sloshed and go off with some predatory guy; she’s only a fourth year.”

“I don’t like it, but I’m her brother. I can’t tell her what to do and even if I could, what, I’m gonna sweep the castle until I find them?”

I exhaled in annoyance. “Maybe just consider being somewhat proactive in someway to show that you care about her wellbeing?”

“I think this is more your jurisdiction, Rose. You’re basically like her sister and older sisters are allowed to meddle in younger sisters’ love lives. She’ll only get angry with me. Besides, everyone expects you to poke your nose in other people’s business.”

I scrunched up my face at him. “Mean, and not the least bit helpful. I’m going to go look for your sister. Hope you have fun.”

“I’m sure you’re jumping to conclusions,” he called after me.

I didn’t have much of a plan upon exiting the portrait hole, but I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Lily. She dated and flirted and snogged, but she hadn’t slept with anyone and I didn’t want that to change under tonight’s circumstances. I strode purposefully towards Ravenclaw tower, rehearsing possible reactions and, if needed, speeches, to whatever I might encounter, making sure to check lonely corridors for couples along the way.

After arguing with the eagle knocker outside the common room over a stupid riddle for nearly four minutes, I was nearly knocked over by the entrance opening. Malfoy and Xavier Wilson stepped out, clad in very odd get-ups. They both had jumpers on, appropriate due to the fall chill, but wore swimsuit shorts and had towels slung across their shoulders.

“Weasley, what are you doing here?”

“Your bird was just about to let me in,” I said. The knocker didn’t acknowledge this in anyway, yet still seemed to be mocking me somehow. “What are you doing?” I said, gesturing to his outfit.

“We’re gonna go jump in the lake,” Xavier answered.

“In the middle of the night, in autumn?”

“Good thing we’re not Muggles and we can cast a few heating spells,” Malfoy said with a roll of his eyes and a flash of his wand. “And anyways, everyone seems to be at the Gryffindor party and Xavier and I would lite-rally rather jump in a lake then join in the celebration of our defeat.” Xavier shrugged, not quite displaying Malfoy’s level of devotion.

I didn’t particularly want to share the nature of my visit with them, but they might have seen something. “I’m looking for Lily, have you seen her?”

The boys exchanged glances and shook their heads. “No,” said Malfoy. “Why do you think she’d be here?”

I explained that she had last been seen leaving the party, very drunk, with Fabian Fenton. Malfoy nodded curtly, understanding immediately. “I’ll go check the dorms.”

I raised my brows. “Oh, don’t you think—I mean, you don’t have to, you could just let me in.”

“No, I’ll go. What are you going to do if you find them?” I agreed that I didn’t know.

“What are _you_ gonna do, Scorpius?” Xavier asked.

“I’ll improvise. I don't care for Fenton. Would you want your sister leaving a party with him?”

Xavier cringed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go with.” A few minutes later, they returned, with no sign of Lily or Fenton.

Malfoy took charge. “Let’s split up and start searching the castle.”

“Yeah, why don’t I head to Gryffindor and make sure they didn’t go back to the party,” Xavier said, clearly losing focus.

Malfoy didn’t notice. “Good, you can get something of hers and we can do a tracing spell.” Xavier darted happily off towards the party and Malfoy and I headed in the other direction. “I’m sure he’ll remember to transfigure himself trousers before he gets there,” Malfoy said, doing so to his own swimming shorts.

As we walked down the staircase I asked, “Why are you so keen on helping?”

“Fenton is an ass, especially to girls. I don’t think he ought to keep getting away with it.”

“And this coming from you?” I asked, skeptical of Malfoy’s sudden interest in respecting female dignity.

“I know what you think, but I’ll have you know, I actually treat my dates with decency and class,” he said, laying on the posh pretty thick. I rolled my eyes. “What behavior of mine do you take offense with? Specifically?” he asked.

I opened a classroom door and peered inside. Empty. “You use and discard girls shamelessly, without any interest in them as people or any regard for their feelings.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe girls use me, due to my attractiveness, and the social traction they gain through association?”

“Ugh,” I gagged. “Yeah, you’ve really been taken advantage of. I’m just saying, I’ve heard more than one girl share some less than kind things about the times they had with you.”

He paused for a moment. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Weasley. I’ll admit haven’t always… behaved entirely honorably, but I’d like to think I’ve come a little way at least.”

“I don’t see how any girl could ever believe that they weren’t just another notch,” I said with a shake of the head.

As we wandered the halls, I knew it’d be more effective to split up and cover double the ground, but I was glad for the company and, if necessary, back-up. We were passing by a hallway when Malfoy stopped suddenly. I heard it too— a faint groan. My stomach dipped. We backtracked and turned the corridor, where Lily was slumped on the ground, passed out underneath the tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy.

I rushed to my cousin’s side, kneeling down and propping her head up on my knee as she groggily came to for a moment before dipping out of consciousness again. “Merlin. Lil?” I looked up at Scorpius helplessly. “Should we take her to the Hospital Wing?”

“Yeah,” he said, bending down to meet me. “Better to be safe. But first,” he dug around in his pocket, pulled out what looked like a lozenge from a little purple container.

“Is that a Weasley product?” I asked, astonished. “It’s from their Booze Bundle, supposed to help with the excessively pissed. I grabbed it from the dorm when we went looking for Fabian.”

“Wow,” I said, as I tried to get Lily to suck on it without choking. “Are you going to be cross with me if I ask again why you’re being so helpful?”

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to your cousin. I don’t have a little sister or little cousins or little anythings to look out for. So…” He trailed off and shrugged. I didn’t know what to say. He looked at me and Lily, then nodded and scooped her up, carrying the slender girl in his arms effortlessly.

“Thank you,” I said, hurrying to keep his brisk pace and wringing my hands. “I’m grateful.” If he hadn’t been there, I would have had to levitate Lily to the Hospital Wing—very undignified.

By the time we got to Madam Spore, Lily was awake and looking better every minute. Another thing I owed to Malfoy. I would have to commend my relatives on their fine product. We followed Madame Spore, who sat Lily down to help her get properly rehydrated.

Malfoy turned to face me, but as I had been standing right behind him, he came quite close. I was reminded again how much taller he had gotten—and he was always tall— as my nose was an inch away from his jumper. Real nice wool by the looks of it. I stepped back a bit.

“I’ll let you settle your cousin in here,” he said softly.

“Thanks again.” I looked down, a little embarrassed by the whole situation.

We both turned away from each other; he out of the Hospital Wing and I back to my cousin’s side. She didn’t remember anything from the past couple hours, but was feeling fine, if not a little mortified. I smiled, trying to hide my worry of whether or not anything indecent happened in the gaps in Lily’s memory.

When we retreated to Gryffindor Tower an hour or so later, the festivities had been broken up and the common room was empty. I could feel Lily slouch beside me in relief. Seeing her safely to her dorm, I gave her a maternal pat on the shoulder, scampered up to my own dormitory, and slumped onto my bed. Before I had time to ruminate on what led to Lily passed out and abandoned in a corridor, I heard paper crumpling beneath me.

There was a note on my bed. I pulled it out from underneath me.

“That fluttered through the window a couple of minutes ago,” Andie mumbled, half-asleep, from her four-poster.

I unfolded it and recognized Malfoy’s pointed script:

_Weasley—_

_Managed to catch up with Fabian. He swears that, while he wanted to, Lily was too drunk to hook up with. She passed out and he just left her. He’s a prick, but I’m pretty confident he was telling the truth. Thankfully it wasn’t worse._

_—Malfoy_

A little smile crept on to my face. He had tracked Fabian down? For a moment, I wondered why he was going so far out of his way. My smile twitched into a perplexed expression. He wasn’t… _interested_ in Lily was he?

The next morning at breakfast, I just popped down to the Great Hall briefly to have a cup of tea and grab Lily, who was holed up in her dorm, some fruit. But I was there long enough to hear what everyone tittering about. Fabian was sporting a big black eye. If that hadn’t been the case, I could never have have mustered the wide smile I gave him on my way out the Hall.

I couldn’t help but notice some bruising on Malfoy’s right hand in class on Monday. He caught me glancing and moved his hand to rest on his leg under the desk.

“What’d you do that for?” I asked accusingly, thinking of my earlier questioning of his intentions.

“I told you,” he said, now rubbing his knuckles. “I already thought Fabian was a git and he behaved like an even bigger git towards your cousin. Punching him in the face was the decent thing to do. But I didn’t do it for Lily Potter. I did it for you.” I jerked in surprise. “Don’t get carried away,” he said, with a bit of a scoff. "We’re friends, aren’t we? Or are we still doing the whole not-owning-up-to-that thing?”

I eyed him cautiously. It seemed like a trap somehow, even though we had been getting along well this year and our fights lately were more playful than angry. “Alright, I guess,” I said. “Let me know when you need me to punch someone in the face for you.”


	13. Step-Ups and Run-Ins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fake dating trope always has to make an appearance at some point, right?

A chill had descended on Hogwarts towards the ends of fall and this week was threatening to escalate into a nasty cold snap. This late autumn morning, Al and I sat bundled at the Gryffindor table next to Dom, James, Roxie, and Jake.

Dom was reviewing Herbology terms with James when the owl post came in. I briefly glanced up to see if there was anything headed towards me. I recognized Hermes, Astoria’s owl, bypassing Malfoy at the Ravenclaw table and landing in front of me. I giggled and looked over at Malfoy, tossing a little wave and smirk. His eyes narrowed, unamused, as I opened Astoria’s package.

I warmed instantly at it's contents— a lovely, magical edition of  _The Age of Innocence._ I had to admit, I really liked Astoria Malfoy, and I was incredibly flattered that it seemed to be mutual. 

She was different than my own mother. Both were incredibly intelligent and accomplished and had the necessary balance between compassion and tirelessness that their profession required, but Astoria was regal, composed, elegant in a way that was bred into the aristocratic. She was lofty, all tailored, classic pencil-skirts, pearls, and perfectly manicured hands. My mum was unglamorous and unassuming, all cozy sweaters and bushy hair and poring over papers in her slippers, two or three tea cups on the desk of her study.

I loved my mum and wouldn't want her to be any different in any way, but still, it meant something to have Astoria's respect.

A shriek from across the table interrupted my thoughts. Roxie’s eyes were bulging, fixed on a letter that was shaking in her hands.

“What? What is it?” We all implored her to relay the contents of the letter.

A smile spread across Roxie’s face, emotional and sincere. “I got a letter from the Appleby Arrows. They want me on as Seeker! Soon as I graduate!” she said enthusiastically.

We all erupted into cheers and whoops and took turns hugging and clapping Roxie on the back.

For a moment I worried about James’s reaction. He had always been jealous of Roxie’s talent, of her being the Quidditch star of the family (our family is littered with a lot of different kinds of stars) when he loved the game so much. But James went into full-on managerial mode. “Alright, Roxie. This is brilliant news, but you shouldn't make any commitments yet. A lot of teams are going to be coming after you and we want to make sure we get the best deal.”

“Ugh, James,” Roxie said dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “The Arrows are one of my favorite teams! I'm going to talk to Mum and Dad about it, but I want to accept.” 

James was ranting about how foolish she would be to accept the first offer that came her way, but Jake interrupted. "Let's give a toast to Roxanne Weasley!" The look on his face was one of such love and pride, it felt like my heart was being squeezed. "The soon-to-be professional Seeker and"— he kissed her cheek— "the most gorgeous woman in the world." 

James rolled his eyes, but raised his glass of pumpkin juice. Dom made an exaggerated, "Awww" sound, but Roxie and Jake didn't seem to notice, clinking their mugs and kissing. 

They really did make a lovely couple. But if they went any heavier with the public displays of affection, I might have to abandon my waffles.

* * *

I jerked awake with a start. I couldn’t manage to keep my eyes open during this evening’s prefect meeting. The room was too warm and my eyes were too heavy. Even after the shock of jolting awake, they were already starting to droop again.

I had been up so late every night this week with seemingly never-ending schoolwork in addition to prefect duties and Quidditch practice. I looked around briefly to see if anyone had noticed that I’d nodded off. I caught a knowing look and single eyebrow lift from Malfoy from across the semi-circle. I reverted my attention to Deirdre, the Head Girl, who seemed to be wrapping things up. 

"Hogsmeade, this Saturday. The prefects on duty are Scott and Amita and Scorpius and Rose. I think that about covers everything." She glanced at Steven, Head Boy, who nodded and we were released. 

Yawning, I gathered my things and headed for the door with the rest of the prefects. I walked along with Frank in sleepy silence, until he began to head in a different direction than our common room. "Where are you going?" I asked. 

"Lizzie needed some help with Charms. I was gonna head to the Hufflepuff common room and see what I can do," he said.

"You're a good brother," I said as he turned the corner. There was nothing Hutch could do to entice me away from the call of my bed right now. I was resolving to finish my homework in the morning, going through a mental checklist of what I had to do, when Malfoy caught up to me. 

"Wanna make our Hogsmeade rounds together? Meet up beforehand?” he said, strolling alongside me. I gave him a smirky smile and he responded with, “After all, I do live to spend my limited leisure time trudging through the snow with a frizzy hellbeast, confiscating Weasley products from third years.” The sarcasm was thick, but the invitation was sincere. 

“Yes, I know that to be your ideal Saturday.” 

This was the routine we had fallen into. Some sort of unusual balance between functional friendship, sarcasm, and light jabs at one another. "Meet in front of the Great Hall at 10?" I asked, as we started to part ways and head to our respective common rooms. 

"Sounds good," he said.

* * *

I glanced at my watch. 10:09. Malfoy would be cross. But I’m never on time, what else should he expect? I dug around my piles of clothes strewn about the dormitory until I found the scarf I was looking for. Wrapping it around my neck, I checked my reflection and decided against the knitted hat, grabbed my bag and dashed out of the room. 

Huffing and flushed from speed walking, I arrived at the previously established meeting spot to find Malfoy leaning on a staircase, drumming his fingers along the rail. "I know, I'm late. Let’s just get going." I said. 

The dainty snowfall made the walk to Hogsmeade cold, but charming, and Malfoy and I were having a rather involved discussion of gothic literature. “What’s interesting is to read the implication of blood in _Dracula—_  and it’s ability to be tainted— through the perspective of the ancient wizarding society. As far as I know Bram Stoker wasn’t a wizard, but I wonder if it was possible that he encountered something of our world?” 

“He lived two centuries after the Statue of Secrecy was enacted. Maybe he did come across something and subsequently had his memories tampered with. But what if there were still impressions of it, which ended up inspiring _Dracula_?” 

I grinned as we shuffled into the village. “I love it when you get all nerdy with me. Could we stop at Honeyduke’s first?” I pointed in the direction of the favorite sweets shop and he nodded. I returned to our conversation with, “Don’t you think we would have known though, that it would have been recorded in wizarding history? Plus, I mean, there _are_ well-known legends that inspired _Dracula_ , Vlad the Impaler and all. But I do like the idea of there being real, magical depth to the story.” I was about to say more when I froze and grabbed Malfoy’s arm in a panic. 

Down the street, coming out of The Three Broomsticks, was Brian Fletcher. Ariana was in tow. 

Still clinging to Malfoy’s arm, I screeched, “Actually, I could really go for a butterbeer!" I dragged him towards the establishment, not sure of what I would say, but knowing I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk to him. They were headed in the opposite direction of us and I felt a moment of panic at the thought of missing him, but I heard him say something and suddenly he turned around, face to face with us. 

"Rose? Scorpius?" he said, beaming. I was both pleased and irritated. Don’t look so thrilled to see me; it only makes it worse!

"Hey!" I said, shrill and blushing furiously. Curses, nothing had changed. _I am as pathetic as ever._ I contemplated inventing some wonderful imaginary boyfriend. Not to make him jealous (that wasn't going to happen), but just so I wouldn’t feel so lame. 

No. I wouldn’t be that humongous of a loser. Besides, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t with Malfoy standing right there. 

"How are you guys?" he said, hugging me in the most adorable, bear way and clapping Malfoy on the back as Ariana stood by silently. She was beautiful, in an impeccable winter ensemble with snowflakes landing perfectly in her ringlets. 

"Good, how's your job at the Ministry?" 

“It’s going well! Still learning the ropes, but it feels like I’m settling in. I came up to visit this one for the weekend," he said, looping his arm through Ariana's. "What about you two, any idea yet what you want to do after Hogwarts?" 

"Not yet," I said, sheepishly. "He’s going to be a lawyer though,” I gestured towards Malfoy. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes at me and corrected, “Possibly." 

"I think that'd suit you quiet well," said Brian. “Did the two of you finally get together?” he asked excitedly, motioning between us. 

Before I could laugh or scoff, Malfoy said, “Yeah,” and wrapped his arm around me. 

I snapped to face him, trying to casually convey with my eyes alone, “What the bloody hell?” He gave me a "go-along-with-it" smirk. Forcing a smile, I turned back to Brian, who was grinning broadly. “It’s very serious,” Malfoy deadpanned and I almost broke. 

“Ah, about bloody time! That's wicked. I'm well pleased,” Brian said. 

“That manic, ginger charm will get you in the end," Malfoy said, squeezing me. Idiotic as it was, I had to go with it now, hadn’t I? I put my arm around Malfoy and snuggled in close, placing my hand on his chest. I gazed up at him with sappy eyes and a loving smile, laced with sarcasm, and he looked down at me, surprisingly, with a convincing amount of affection. 

“I knew all that unresolved sexual tension in those DADA sessions had to go somewhere,” Brian teased. I chuckled awkwardly.

“Yeah, she disarmed me in more ways than one,” Malfoy said, admittedly a pretty good line.

I had to say something, right? I couldn’t just stand there mutely, but for some reason nothing remotely convincing was coming to mind. I stammered a little before finding my footing and saying, “I was hesitant, of course, when he suddenly fell for me so hard, but he absolutely doted on me until I eventually gave in.” I suppressed a laugh as I felt Malfoy twitch beside me, but he didn’t contradict my story. 

We said our “so-good-to-see-you”s and “good-luck”s and Brian and Ariana strolled off arm and arm. I groaned and lolled my head back. Malfoy gave me a pity pat on the back. Annoying as his little stunt had been, I was reluctant to untangle from him. He was a nice source of warmth as the snow began to come down harder. 

“Let me buy the poor, sad lady a drink," he said, and we made our way into The Three Broomsticks. 

“What was that about, him assuming we're dating?” I turned and said, shuffling through the crowds of coats to a booth, Malfoy following behind. “Is there a less plausible couple in all of history?” 

Malfoy just made a “hmph” noise. 

“What made you go along with it?” I asked, as we plopped into the booth. 

“I felt bad for you; you looked like a little shelter puppy—Two hot ciders, please,” he said to the waitress. He turned back to me. “Now, instead of your usual quirky thing— single and awkward and not at all romantically viable—you walk away a taken woman, an object of desire.” 

“—I am _not_ an object—” I objected. 

He ignored me. “And he is undoubtably wondering if he missed something with you, if you’ve managed to land a notoriously sought-after gentleman such as myself.” 

Did he mean that? Would Brian really think that way? I looked at him incredulously. “You weren’t just doing it to bug me? You were trying to help?” 

“Why couldn’t it have been both?” he said, an amused smile on his face. 

“You know if they talk to anyone about it, our story will instantly fall through?” 

"Oh, Weasley, despite our best efforts, I doubt he'll be thinking about us this weekend when he's got that girlfriend of his to entertain.” 

Our ciders arrived and I wrapped my stinging hands around my mug. “How’d you know I wanted cider?” I asked him. 

“I know you, Red,” he said simply. 

Later, we opted to ‘patrol’ the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. My cousin Molly ran the Hogsmeade shop and would usually give me tasters and had only tricked me into being a guinea pig for a product in testing once. 

We ambled past the shelf of Love Potions and I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, how is this still legal? Allowing desperate teenage girls to buy these is downright dangerous." 

Malfoy nodded seriously. "Desperate teenage girls, you know all about that first-hand," he said, taking the cap off the Amorentia and smelling it. A dazed look fell across his face. I followed suit, coming in close to smell for myself. 

I was instantly enveloped in loveliness. Even though I was only inhaling, I already felt like I was in a trance. Scents that one would think would be contradictory swirled through my olfactory system, somehow perfectly complementary. 

I became aware of how close I was still to Malfoy’s tall form, my senses alight with the intoxicating smell. My eyes flicked up, but didn’t meet his. My gaze slowly traveled from the defined line of his jaw, to the smooth neck that undulated as he swallowed, to the tiny bit of his collarbone that was exposed. I bit my lip. He coughed. I stepped back quickly. _Yikes, this stuff is powerful._

"What do you smell?" I asked, clearing my throat. 

He inhaled again before answering. “Freshly brewed coffee…Something that reminds me of our study at home— some kind of mix of the leather and the wood. And something… apple-y.” He looked at me and shrugged, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Maybe my mother’s apple crumble.” 

“Are you blushing?” I teased. 

He exhaled in annoyance. “What do you smell then?” 

I smiled languidly, transported again at the mere thought of it. “There’s this ice cream parlor, Gibson’s, in a Muggle village near our house. The whole place smells absolutely delicious; I can never exhale in there. Homemade ice cream. Mmm." I sighed. “And freshly done laundry. I always loved the smell of warm, clean towels. And something else I can't place. It's familiar, but I can’t distinguish it.” I paused, not sure if I should continue. I was still speaking with Malfoy after all, not at a slumber party. Looking away at some of the other products, I said casually, “Have you heard it said that people sometimes smell something of the person they’re most attracted to?” 

“I have,” he said. 

“It’s interesting,” I followed up. “Is it purely physical or does it require an emotional connection too? How powerful does it have to be to show up in Amortentia? How frequently does our unique blend of scents change?” 

“I would guess it would be a damn powerful connection. Something you’ve been close enough to enough times that it’s cemented in your subconscious.” 

I ruminated. The faint mystery scent that was laced through the love potion was something like a lavender soap. It smelt clean and fresh and familiar, but I couldn’t place who it belonged to. Brian would be my first thought, but I had no recollection of what he smelt like. Could Amortentia pick up on it anyway? 

“But it changes, I’m sure,” he continued. What we find attractive evolves." he said, glancing down. 

I nodded in agreement, moving along the shelves, but my mind remained with the intoxicating scent in the back of the shop. It was probably Brian. Love potions were advanced magic; it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they could pull things from the recesses of your subconscious. I didn’t need to fixate on it as I was— it only meant attraction, not destiny.  



	14. Surprises Around Every Corridor

“Would you two get started on the centerpieces?” Deirdre said, snapping, walking past at a quick pace with a team of house elves at her heels.

Malfoy and I made eye contact across the table and I raised my eyebrows and suppressed a smile. Deirdre was the ultimate perfectionist and was not taking the task of organizing Hogwarts’s Christmas festivities lightly. Professor Knox’s office was a flurry of prefects and house elves and literal flurries of snow, enchanted to swirl around above us. Tonight was the prefect’s Christmas party, held here in the Professor’s office, and soon after would be the Ball.

I picked up my wand and started arranging the centerpieces as Deirdre had instructed, sending decorative holiday items flying into large vases. Malfoy followed behind, tidying by hand.

Arriving at the Heads table, I glanced around before hiding in a sprig of brandy-brine, an herb we had used in Potions, in the centerpiece. It had a strangely pungent scent that would bug Deirdre— a silly and innocuous prank.

Malfoy’s expression was a mixture between surprise and amusement. I shrugged. “Harmless,” I said, sweetly. We moved to the next table.

“Who are you going to go with, to the Ball?” he asked, as he adjusted a piece of holly.

“Oh, Frank. Much easier to just go with a friend and expend as little effort as possible,” I said with a chuckle. 

“Why don’t you go with me?” he said, and I turned in surprise. He was closer than I thought he’d be and I sat back against the table to get some distance. He was wearing a cream-colored Muggle sweater that looked incredibly cozy and incredibly good on him. His blonde hair was tousled, an appealing deviation from it’s usual neatly combed form. 

I laughed. “Yeah, uh huh.” I returned to the arrangements. 

I could feel him closing in behind me again. “I’m serious. Go with me,” he said. “It’d be fun.” He was leaning over me to adjust the centerpieces, so his body was up against mine. 

With a tight-lipped smile, I turned back to him and, trying to ignore how close he was, said, “I didn’t have all that much fun last time.”

He slumped over a little, tilting his head. “That was so long ago," he said, an almost-whine.

“Not _that_ long ago.” I leaned in and squinted my eyes at his neck. “I think I can still see a hickey, courtesy of Antonia.” He sighed, looking a little disappointed. “Why?” I asked, moving on to the next table. “There’s not a single girl in the whole school you want to go with?”

“I’ll ask someone else.” He didn’t elaborate.

My brow twitched a little. It's not like he actually wanted to  _go_ with _me_ because he _wanted_ to, right? 

* * *

 

A little paperclip with wings fluttered under my door and landed in front of me. I opened the note it contained to find Frank’s thin scrawl. He’d be griping that I was going to make us late for the prefect’s Christmas party. 

_Rose-_

_Hurry up already! I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. If you don’t get down here soon I’m going to leave without you!_

Groaning, I thanked the Hogwarts founders for the enchanted staircases that prevented Frank from physically dragging me out of my dorm. I should’ve gotten ready earlier, but I had been absorbed in my book and lost track of time.

I got on my hands and knees, searching under the bed for my other shoe, which I was not successful in locating. I resorted to wearing formal heels, which I had hoped to avoid because they bloody hurt and I was clumsy in them. I hobbled towards Andie’s vanity and checked myself in the mirror. 

I hadn’t done anything to tame my hair, so I grabbed a silver headband and slid it on. That seemed to help situate it a bit. I was wearing a cute black cocktail dress that I had borrowed from Dom and altered to fit. Grandma Molly taught me housekeeping spells over the summer and I protested on the grounds of feminism (“If you’re teaching me, you should be teaching Hutch too! Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’m the only one who could benefit from learning them!”), but they had admittedly come in handy. 

Finally, I slipped on a silver cardigan to combat the winter chill and grabbed my present for the secret gift exchange. It was a book about dragon care I got for Armando Dunbar, the fifth year Ravenclaw prefect. I knew he was interested in dragons and that was about all I had to go on, so I hoped he liked it. 

I hobbled downstairs in my heels, linking arms with Frank, dapper in his skinny tie, and used him for support as we exited the common room.

“Who’d you get in the gift exchange?” I asked Frank, who kept tight-lipped. Maybe he got me. I hoped so, Frank would know what I wanted (a pair of Christmas flannel pajamas).

We entered the party, where the prefects and Heads were mingling to light music and house-elves walked around with trays of appetizers. Everyone abandoned the pretense of “secret” Santa and seemed to be exchanging gifts openly, so I made my way over to Armando. 

Peering at the book from under his glasses, he seemed quite excited about my gift. “Thank you, Rose! Cool, it looks like it covers the basic needs and diets of all the main breeds.”

I parted from Armando, hoping I hadn’t just encouraged him to illegally raise a dragon. I helped myself to a snack from a passing tray and bobbed awkwardly to the music. I found myself near Nicolette Blackburn and what appeared to be her gift exchange partner, fifth year Hufflepuff Hannah McGregor.

They were quite in contrast to one another. Nicolette was tall and willowy, with olive skin and striking green eyes. She wore a long, beaded, bohemian number and had snowflake crystals braided into her curly dark hair. The granddaughter of a prominent Indian wizard who immigrated to the UK, she had the confident air of someone who has been told all her life how spectacular she was, without it crossing over into arrogance. Petite and athletic, with dirty blonde hair, Hannah usually wore a sarcastic expression that said she never took anything too seriously. She wore a short, sparkly dress, but paired it with trainers, balancing fun and feminine with sporty.

As I joined the two, Hannah was joking about the tense dynamic between type-A Deidre and laid back Head Boy Steven. 

In a perfect impression of Deidre’s high Irish lilt, she pursed her lips and said, “Sure, some people are appointed Head because they’re smart, organized and hard-working, while others are appointed because they’re,” she paused for an acerbic chuckle, “ _popular_ ”.

We gave the appropriate praise to Hannah’s impression and the two girls greeted me cheerfully.  

“Happy Christmas,” I said. “How’d your guys’ gift exchange go?”

“Brilliant, Nicolette got me this gorgeous Wimbourne Wasps blanket,” she said, holding up a soft fleece bearing in the Wimbourne logo.

“And Brynn Parcell gave me the new Banshees record. His older sister found it and mailed in two copies, so he kept one and gave me the other.” The Banshees were a popular alt-wizard rock band that had risen to prominence lately, but were notoriously secretive and mysterious. Their newest record had debuted without any notice and required the would-be purchaser to follow a scavenger hunt to locate where it was being sold. As Hogwarts students were confined to the school grounds, no one had yet gotten a copy.

“That’s amazing _,”_ Hannah said. “You know everyone in school is going to be swarming you, begging you to play it for them.”

“I’ll be happy to listen to it as many times as people want. I’m just not letting it out of my sight,” Nicolette said, squeezing the sealed case like it was a teddy bear. “What about you, Rose?”

“Oh, my Santa hasn’t revealed him or herself yet." I glanced around. “I can’t imagine my present could match yours, though,” I said, eyeing the album.

“Who are you going to the Ball with?” Nicolette asked Hannah and I.

I smirked. “The only people who ask are people who are excited to tell.”

Nicolette grinned cheekily. “What? No! It’s just my last Christmas at Hogwarts! You know, nostalgia sets in, you get sentimental, rose-colored glasses and all.” 

I raised a single eyebrow and Hannah seemed equally unconvinced. 

“And maybe I’m going with James Potter,” she said, giggling mischievously.

“What?!” I said, lightly smacking her arm. “How on earth did that happen?”

“All those years of pulling pranks on each other— you know, that time I moved his whole four-poster to the Owlery, when he dosed my shampoo and my hair was bright orange for a week, when I sold all his socks and underwear to Potter fanatics. Or those “love” letters that I thought were from Connor Singer, but were really James, who put weird requests in every letter so I completely humiliated myself with Connor? That was brilliant. Like I said, you get sentimental,” she said, a dreamy look in her eyes.

“You are _mental_ ,” Hannah said with a laugh.

“Honest though, he’s the person I’ve enjoyed the most at Hogwarts. Going with him feels right.”

I shook my head in pleasant disbelief. “I can’t believe James didn’t tell me. But I think it’s great. He needs someone to keep him on his toes.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t mean we’re together or anything, but I am really looking forward to it.”

“I haven’t got anything exciting,” I said. “I’m just going with Frank. We decided to go as friends and avoid the _drama_.” I said “drama” the way girls always say it, like, “drahhhmaa”. They both nodded in understanding. 

Hannah said, “Well, uh, I’m going with Scorpius Malfoy.”

My head snapped so fast my neck cracked. “Wait, _Malfoy_ Malfoy? Scorpius Malfoy?”

She laughed, “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t know you knew each other, that’s all,” I said, trying to downplay my interest in the matter.

“We didn’t, until a few weeks ago. We were both on the Quidditch pitch for some solo practice and got to talking and running a few drills. So we’ve been hanging out a bit; we eat breakfast together a lot.”

That held up. I never woke up as early as Malfoy did and my breakfast was usually cramming toast in my mouth on the way to class. 

“So, you two are a _thing_?” Nicolette took the words out of my mouth. Breakfasting was very couple-y.

Hannah smiled. “Not quite, nothings happened, but he did ask me to the Ball. And he’s, you know, gorgeous and clever and charming, so I’m not entirely opposed.”

I was surprised. Hannah was funny, smart, down-to-earth. And yet, she had a crush on Malfoy and, evidently, he liked her too? Malfoy usually dated serious sourpusses or vapid vixens. What was he doing with someone like Hannah?

“Don’t say anything though, Rose,” she said, shuddering. “I know you’re friends. I want to try and play it cool.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, absentmindedly. 

Malfoy had offered to take _me_ to the Ball this morning. Had he been messing with me, or was he really seeing if I would go with him before he asked someone else? The idea that it could be the latter, that I could be Malfoy’s first choice over a viable romantic prospect, was absurd, but it didn’t stop my stomach from dipping nervously. 

It doesn’t matter. I said no. Hannah said yes. No point in fussing over hypotheticals, and such ridiculous ones at that. I tried to force myself not to think about it.

I parted with Nicolette and Hannah, head swirling with new information. I took off my cardigan and hung it on the coat rack; the growing crowd was warming up the room. There was dreamy, retro music playing on the magical phonograph. It made me wistful. 

Everyone seemed to have exciting and promising romances, while I still couldn’t find success in this area. I had never been comfortable with Oliver, never got close with Brian, and never seemed to be interested in anyone else.

Before I could delve too deep into my own feelings of longing, I heard my name and felt a hand on my shoulder. Inadvertently, I shivered, the unexpected touch on my newly bare skin giving me chills. I turned, surprised to find Malfoy, and I realized I hadn’t recognized his voice because he used my first name. 

He looked very nice indeed in his jacket and tie, his hair swept to the side. I took back my earlier thought— his hair was appealing both ways.

From behind his back, he pulled a small box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a little red ribbon. Gryffindor colors. I couldn’t help but picture him picking out the paper and wrapping this little gift carefully and my heart swelled.

Wordlessly, I took the box from him, slowly undid the ribbon, and gingerly removed the wrapping paper, trying to keep it intact.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Weasley,” he said exasperatedly. “Just rip it off.”

Reluctantly, I did so. I opened the smooth, white box beneath the paper to reveal a stunning necklace: a miniature golden Snitch hanging on a delicate chain. I actually gasped. The detail was incredible and the tiny wings fluttered gently when I touched it. It was painfully pretty. I looked up at Malfoy, speechless.

“You know, because you said you always loved Snitches. So when I got you for Secret Santa…” he trailed off. He was starting to look a little nervous, probably because I still hadn’t spoken. 

I snapped out of it, pulling him into a tight hug, the second time I had ever done so. “Malfoy, honestly, it’s beautiful. I couldn’t love it more. Thank you! You didn’t have to.” It was quite a step from the Charms book he got me for my birthday.

I handed it to him and gestured for him to put it on me. Obviously, I was capable of putting on the necklace on myself, but this is how these things are done.

Behind me, he pulled my hair to one side and lifted the necklace over my head. His hands brushed my collarbone as he brought it back and fastened the clasp. I got goosebumps again and longed for my cardigan. His hands rested on my neck for a moment before lightly straying down my back. 

“Happy Christmas, anyways.”

I touched my necklace affectionately and felt the little brush of the wings. “Bloody hell. I’m going to end up wearing something _you_ gave me everyday,” I mumbled in disbelief. 

“Merlin, what’s that cracking noise? I think it’s the ice freezing hell over.”

“So what’s this about you and Hannah McGregor?” I asked, head cocked to one side.

“I told you this morning I’d ask someone else,” he said simply. 

“Yeah, but…” I didn’t know how to proceed. _Yeah, but was I your first choice?_ Instead, I moved on. “Classy pick. Definitely an upgrade from your usual roster.” I had to get rid of that odd feeling chewing at my gut. This was Malfoy. Womanizing, patronizing, pestering Malfoy. No need to get confused, he probably only wanted to take a platonic friend, like last time.

Malfoy and I parted ways and I joined Frank at the refreshments table. “How’s the boyfriend?” he said, taking a sip of butterbeer. 

“I regret telling you about that,” I said, with a roll of my eyes. “Malfoy and I are nothing more than friends, if that even!”

“I know,” Frank said, looking surprised. “I was taking the mickey, obviously.”

I walked back to the Common Room alone, as Frank was still talking to Branson Shaw. 

As I pulled around a corner, I heard hushed voices and stopped.

“…not sure it’s the best for either of us.” I recognized my cousin Roxie’s voice, speaking gently. 

I peeked around the corner as quietly as I could, and saw Jake and Roxie sitting in an alcove by a window. I wouldn’t be able to pass without them seeing me. I felt guilty about eavesdropping, but couldn’t seem to move. 

“I don’t understand,” Jake said, sounding confused. “I couldn’t be happier for you. Why would this be an issue for us?” 

Roxie sighed. “Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. But I’m going to be the young, new kid on the team. I dunno— I don’t want to be _that_ girl, with the boyfriend back home…” she trailed off.

“Holding you back,” he said. The usually buoyant and light hearted voice had an unusually dark tone to it. 

“No,” she protested weakly. “I don’t want to be distracted, that’s all.”

“Well,” he said.

“Jake—” 

“If you’ve made your mind up, there’s no point in arguing with you. I don’t want you to be with me if you don’t want to.”

“I haven’t made my mind up. I do want to be with you! I’ve loved being with you,” Roxie said earnestly. “It’s just this opportunity is really important to me and I want to be focused.”

I had to sneeze. I scurried away from the corridor in a hurry, trying to be quiet, but eager to get as much distance from the couple as possible before I lost it. When I finally did, I hoped I was safely out of hearing range. My heart was pounding, both from my quick escape and what I had overheard.

Taking the long way back to the Common Room, I didn’t pass through the portrait hole for quite a while. Evidently Jake and Roxie didn’t talk for much longer, as I found him and James sunk deep into the armchairs in front of the dwindling fire, talking in low voices. I focused on James, avoiding Jake and his recent (what I hoped didn't end up being a) break-up. 

“How dare you not tell me about you and Nicolette!” I said, hitting him playfully over the head with a pillow.

James patted his hair back into place and a delightedly devilish grin came across his face. “It’s crazy, right? But just because she’s been my nemesis all these years doesn’t mean she’s not bloody fantastic. She’s a riot,” he said affectionately.

“Good, you need someone who won’t let you boss them around.”

He grinned and nodded. There was a bit of an awkward pause. James turned to Jake to pick their conversation up again and said gingerly, “For the record, I think she was just voicing her concerns, not looking to break-up right now. ” 

Jake glared at James, looking at me quickly and then back to James, in a not-in-front-of-your-cousin kind of way. But he spoke anyway. “She doesn’t want to be in a relationship while she’s starting out her big Quidditch career. I can’t very well hold that against her.”

“Oh, Jake, I’m sorry,” I said softly, but James spoke over me.

“You are holding it against her though, mate. Don’t get me wrong, I’m on your side, but—”

“Stop, there aren’t sides, so don’t go on like that. But _were_ there sides, you wouldn’t be on mine. You’ll never be on mine. You’re her family. _All_ my friends are her family.” He stood, surly. “I think I’ll call it a night,” he said, plodding towards the stairs. 

James and I exchanged looks. “They broke up,” James said.

“I’d worked that much out, yeah,” I said, a little rumble of guilt at remembering my front row seat.

I bid James a good night and shuffled off to my dorm. Shrugging off my dress and cardigan and sliding into my sweats, I carefully removed my necklace and set it on the nightstand beside my bed. A small smile snuck onto my face as I watched the tiny wings flutter. It really was terribly pretty.

I slunk into bed and dreamt of snitches.

* * *

 

I spent the next day in the library, primarily, getting ready for the pre-holiday exams. In the afternoon, I returned to the common room and hopped up to my dormitory, energized from being so productive. I entered to find Andie pacing around the room in a frenzy.

“Whoa there, what’s going on? You have crazy eyes,” I said, tossing my book bag on my bed and sitting down.

“Cam and I got in a huge fight,” she said, her blonde hair piled on her head messily. “He said that I’m spending too much time with other guys, particularly Frank and Al.”

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve barely hung out with any of us since you two started dating,” I said, trying not to reek of bitterness.

She ignored my comment anyway. “You know how I was feeling under the weather the other day and Frank brought me soup from the kitchens? Cam thought that was ‘inappropriate’. Probably just upset because someone else is being a better boyfriend than he is!”

“He can’t tell you who you are and aren’t allowed to hang out with,” I said, although it was unclear whether or not she was even listening. 

She was flipping through her trunk, but she nodded. “I know, which is why I’m going to the Ball with Frank.” She pulled out her dress robes, stood up straight and looked at me with a satisfied smirk.

“What?” I said. If I recalled correctly, there seemed to be a slight scheduling conflict in that _I_ was going to the Ball with Frank.

“Frank’s going to be my date. I’m not breaking up with Cam or anything. I want to rile him up a little,” she said, scrunching her nose.

“Aside from the fact that that is a truly terrible idea, Frank’s already going with me to the Ball,” I said.

“What? No, he isn’t! He agreed to go with me not twenty minutes ago. I’d obviously know if he was going with you, Rose.” Looking exasperated, she hung her robes off the edge of her bed and sat down.

All the anger and annoyance I felt towards Andie from the past year was bubbling up, threatening to overtake me. I registered with irritation that Frank had discarded our agreement, but for now my focus was on the girl across the room from me. “Frank and I decided to go together last week. Don’t talk to me like I don’t know what’s going on in my own life. You, on the other hand, are never around anymore and when you are, you’re not listening to anything coming out of my mouth unless it has to do with your stupid boyfriend. Except, of course, when you haven’t studied before a test.”

Andie made a surprised scoffing noise. “You don’t need to get so hostile with me, love, just because Frank apparently forgot about your date. I’m sorry if you _like_ him or something.”

I was on the verge of turning into a full-blown rage monster. To accuse me of liking Frank was just stupid, but there was nothing I detested more than terms of endearment used condescendingly. “Sorry, _love.”_ I said the word like it was a curse. “But you don’t get to know who I like anymore, because you haven’t been a friend to me for a year now. Why couldn’t you ask Al?”

“Al’s going with Elizabeth.”

“What? Have you all lost your minds?” Al was well aware that my brother was infatuated with Elizabeth. My eyebrows were beginning to quiver.

“He asked her, like, two days ago. I guess I’m not as out of touch as you think,” she said, with more snark than I cared for. 

With an annoyed glance at Andie, I walked briskly out of the room, returned for a moment to grab my book bag, and headed towards the boys’ dorms. I needed to have a chat with my best friends.

I stormed into the dormitory looking something akin to the Whomping Willow. Al wasn’t there but Frank was laying on his bed, flipping through a collection of Quidditch playing cards. He sat up as I entered. Doehan Che, one of the Gryffindors in our year I was less familiar with, was in the room as well, looking rather terrified in his t-shirt and boxers.

“Doehan, sincere apologies,” I said, averting my eyes as he scrambled to put on his trousers. “Frank. Outside. Now.”

I stalked out of the room, Frank close on my heels. I led him down the stairs, through the common room, out the portrait hole, down the hall and around the corner to an empty corridor.

“What the hell, Frank?” I swatted his arm. “You’re going to the Ball with Andie now?”

“Ah, about that—”

“And you didn’t even bother to ask me about it? You thought it’d be better for me to find out from Andie that I’m now dateless because you dropped me like a newly-hatched mandrake?”

“You and I were just going as friends! I thought it was casual, informal! Andie was upset and she wanted to go with me and I didn’t think you’d mind.” He rubbed his neck and looked at me, pleading to be let off.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t bail on me just because you’re bloody obsessed with Andie,” I said angrily. “They’re not even breaking up! Your chances are just as slim as they’ve always been.”

I stomped away, partially out of anger and partially because I didn’t want to say anything meaner. Frank followed, trying to explain himself and we rounded the corner only to find Andie on the other side, looking stunned. Had she been eavesdropping or had she just gotten there? How much of the conversation had she heard? Frank’s face was completely drained of color.

Unsure of what to do and in no mood to talk to either of them at this point, I awkwardly sidestepped Andie and hurried back to the common room. I saw Al climbing into the portrait hole, clearly just returning from Quidditch practice, and I hurried to catch up to him.

Once in the common room, I grabbed Al’s arm and he yelped in surprise. I yanked him over to a secluded corner and gestured for him to take a seat, while I stood, pacing.

“What were you thinking, asking Elizabeth to the Ball?” I whispered, to avoid causing a scene.

Al ran a hand through his hair, “Rose.”

“My brother is going to be crushed!”

“Rose, it’s only a dance.”

“Do you like her?” I said, pausing in my pacing, hands on hips. 

Al rolled his eyes. “Yeah, kind of. I didn’t plan on it, but I’m not going to apologize for it either.”

I scoffed. “So, you’re going to devastate my baby brother for ‘yeah, kind of’?”

“Fine, I like her a lot! Hugo will get over it; it’s a puppy love crush.”

“It’s just a crush for you too, why don’t _you_ get over it?”

“Rose,” he said, annoyingly condescending. Al was like his father in many ways, but in that moment I was reminded of Aunt Gin. “This may come as a major shock to you, but it’s actually not your business. Most of the things that occupy your time and energy aren’t.”

I bristled. Al was usually patient with me; he usually indulged me. “Don’t you call me ‘Rose’ in that patronizing tone! You know I hate that!”

I got nothing but an eyebrow raise from my cousin.

I continued. “Hutch would never do this to you, you know that. You didn’t even talk to him about it?” He shook his head in silence. “I hope you’re happy, Potter.”

We never got in real fights, we would usually just cool off separately if we were annoyed with one another. To be exchanging harsh words with him was upsetting and I didn’t want any more of it. I walked off and out of the portrait hole. 

I felt utterly alone. I couldn’t talk to any of my closest friends. I arrived at my destination before I even realized that I was going there. Shaking, I tapped the barrels in front of the Hufflepuff common room the way Hugo had taught me. 

Once inside, I calmed down a little. The Hufflepuff common room always had that effect on me. Cozy, warm and sunny, it was impossible to remain tense. A plant hummed softly, swaying in a copper pot. I could’ve been very happy as a Hufflepuff.

My brother was sprawled across a cushy armchair under the windowsill. When he saw me, a confused smile crossed his face. He was finally growing out of being mortified to be seen with me in public. It had been quite annoying, trying to talk to him while he pretended he didn’t know me. We once got in a very intense fight on a beach one holiday when I had tried to talk to him in front of kids he knew (the primary weapons being sand and sunscreen).

“Hutch, can we talk?” I said softly.

Putting down his wizard comic book, he nodded and we headed to his room. Relieved to find it empty, I collapsed on Hutch’s bed. 

“What’s all this about?” he said.

“Two things. I have to tell you something lame and I want your emotional support for something else.”

“Lame thing first. Then we can emotionally support each other,” he said with a grin, sitting on the bed. He was so cute.

 “Al likes Elizabeth and they’re going to the Ball together.”

Hugo’s eyebrows raised and his lips parted slightly. He had Dad’s long face and lanky physique and Mom’s bright brown eyes. His dark auburn curls sprang out wildly. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up even taller, and nodded.

“Ok,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking dismal.

He just nodded again and said, “What’s your thing?”

“Ugh. Frank bailed on me to go to the Ball with Andie and I got in a big fight with them both and Al’s mad at me for confronting him about Elizabeth.”

“You called him out on it? Aw, Rose, no! Now I feel stupid.”

Too exhausted to argue with anyone else I just mumbled, “Sorry,” into the pillow I was now burying my face in.

Hutch patted my forehead awkwardly, which for him was an enormously generous gesture of affection. I was touched.

I didn’t return to Gryffindor until past midnight, having elected to spend the remainder of the day studying in the Hufflepuff common room and popping down to the kitchens with Hutch to make up for the dinner I’d skipped. He didn’t say much throughout the course of the night, but it was nice to be with him.

There was only one person left in the common room— Jake, who appeared to be writing an essay. 

“Night, mate,” I mumbled, as I made my way towards the stairs, sleepily.

“Rose, you weren’t at dinner,” he said, stopping me.

I blushed. My crush on him was juvenile, but still, things like him noticing my absence had an involuntarily physical effect on me. “Yeah,” I said. “I was with my brother in Hufflepuff all night.”

He seemed to sense in my tone that something was amiss and asked if everything was alright. I briefly explained the events and how all my friends were inconsiderate pricks. “But, you know, now I’m not obliged to go to the Ball. I seem to have horrid luck with them anyway,” I said. Inwardly, I cringed, remembering that my petty little arguments meant nothing to the recently dumped Jake.

“We should go together,” he said, as if he had been suddenly struck by the fancy. “Better than sitting in all night moping, don’t you think?”

“Wha— seriously?” I said, surprised that he’d want to go, let alone with me.

“Yeah, let’s stick it to them.”

My eyebrows perked in interest. “Ok,” I said. A pause. “G’night, anyway.” 

“Night, Rose.”

The whole conversation felt like it took place in a weird dream, but somehow I had gained a date and was going to the Ball again. The draining emotional toll of the day had left me devoid of much feeling either way. I supposed it would be better to go than not. I didn’t have the energy to consider what Roxie would think of it. 

 _Lily_ , I thought suddenly. Feeling a little guilty I hadn’t considered seeking her confidence sooner, I resolved to consult her the next day. For now, all I could manage was to slump onto my bed and drift into a hopefully dreamless sleep.


	15. Yule Be Back

It was an unusual Christmas to say the least.

Despite being poised to be a disaster, it was actually my first mild, tear-free Yule Ball. Considering the circumstances, one would expect it to be riddled with drama. After all, I went with my cousin’s recent ex whilst in the middle of a row with my three best friends. 

Thankfully Roxie didn’t have an issue with Jake and I going together. “Go right ahead,” she had said with a nod. “I cannot believe he’s ready to abandon this relationship because I brought up a distant concern. To be honest, I’m bloody furious with him, letting his pride ruin everything like this. But I’m not bothered by you going to the Ball with him.” I believed her.

Jake and I steered clear of everyone for most of the night though, bypassing possible drama. We mingled a little with James and Nicolette, when they weren’t combining their considerable prank expertise to wreak havoc on the guests. Hutch and Lily checked in on us too, but otherwise, we embraced our isolated state. We alternated between dancing vigorously and energetically on the outskirts of the dance floor and talking at length, a bit about his disappointments, a bit about mine.

It was the most time I had ever spent with Jake and it was a little intense, being so one-on-one. We seemed to both feel strangely empowered by blowing everyone off. I know I was relieved to not be constantly worrying about or catering to the needs of my friends and family. I would never be able to maintain such apathy longterm, but for one night it worked. 

And for one night, I could have a fun date, without anxiety and over-analysis. Both of us seemed to understand that this Ball existed outside of time. While we may have danced and confided and, eventually in the courtyards, kissed, neither of us had any expectation of it going any further. Neither Jake or Roxie were over the break-up and I had no desire to interfere. 

Even without Roxie, as much as I truly enjoyed and admired Jake, I couldn’t picture myself with him. He was like a oatmeal raisin cookie— even if it was hot and fresh from a fantastic bakery that was indisputably top-quality, I didn’t like raisins. I can’t explain why I don’t like raisins. I understand that other people like raisins and I’m happy for them when they enjoy raisins. I just don’t. I could be friends with the oatmeal raisin, even enjoy— and I definitely did enjoy— a snog with the oatmeal raisin, but I didn’t want any more oatmeal raisin then I had.

* * *

 

Once leaving Hogwarts, I wanted to do nothing at all but stay at home. I didn’t want to see anyone but Mum, Dad, Hutch and Rigby. I retreated into my family, much like I retreated into the blanket forts Hutch and I built. But like my blanket fort, the more I pulled my family in around me, the more anxiety began to cave in on me. I would have to return to school and face my friends eventually, and I would be seeing Al even sooner. 

We usually spent Christmas day with the Potters but Mum felt it had been too long since we had the holiday with Grandma and Grandpa Granger, so this year we would with them. However, Al and I would still see each other at the traditional Weasley family Christmas Eve. 

Perhaps I had been unfair to be so harsh with him, but I was protective of my little brother and Al had shown no remorse. Hutch would be alright, but I still hadn’t talked to my cousin. It was a matter of pride. I wasn’t going to come crawling back to him begging for his forgiveness. 

Christmas Eve was freezing but, surprisingly, sunny. I sat on the porch of the Burrow Christmas Eve afternoon, bundled in a thick sweater and a blanket and clinging to my tea, but enjoying squinting in the sunlight. My mother, Auntie Angelina, and Victorie were outside as well; Mum was talking to Victorie about her upcoming summer nuptials (in wedding terms, seven months away is just around the corner). 

“Nice long engagement, eh?” Auntie Angie commented. By the time they wed, Teddy and Victorie will have been engaged for a year. 

“We’re both busy with work, so it gives us a little more time to plan. Plus, we wanted to do it in the summer,” Victorie said, in the well-rehearsed tone of someone who had talked about this a lot.

“You might be forgetting that you and George didn’t have the most conventional courtship, Ang,” my mother said. 

Angie shrugged. “You’re right. But I don’t know why everyone doesn’t do it the way I did. What, eloping with your dead ex’s brother doesn’t seem like a surefire thing?” 

My mother grimaced at her candor, but that was Auntie Angie.

After the war and the death of my Uncle Fred, Uncle George had obviously been devastated. He relied greatly on my father, who had moved in and helped him get on, and eventually with the business. A couple of years later though, when my parents were getting serious, George realized that Ron wouldn’t be around to look after him forever and he couldn’t stay in his bubble.

That’s when he had reconnected with Angelina. They bonded over missing Fred, who had been a good friend and onetime boyfriend to Angelina. They really hit it off and, according to my dad, Angie was the one person who George was almost himself around. She understood the depths of his grief, but also was straight with him and didn’t coddle him like everyone else in his life.

Within a few months, they had run off and gotten married. 

“I thought I was knocked up, you know,” Angie was saying. “But it was a false alarm; Fred didn’t come along for another year and a half. That’s not why we eloped though. George couldn’t imagine having a wedding without Fred, so we didn’t.” 

My eyes widened a little, but I tried not to look like I was reacting. I didn’t know she had thought she was pregnant. It’s weird, as you get older, little things about your relatives start to come out and suddenly you have to look at them like people, with flaws and secrets, rather than entirely perfect. 

The conversation was shifting back to the Lupin wedding and where it was going to be held.

“Once Narcissa was the last remaining Black and her husband died, she made a little bit of an effort to mend her relationship with Teddy’s granny, primarily giving her access to her rightful inheritance. So that included a pretty little chalet in the Lake District with beautiful grounds that she wants us to use for the wedding,” Victorie explained to Mum. 

The older women were replying with how perfect that sounded when Al shuffled out on to the porch. Thanks to our lifelong friendship and close relation, as soon as we made eye contact we understood each other. Wordlessly, I stood, keeping my blanket wrapped tight around me and the two of us walked towards the big oak tree that we had climbed and camped out under all our childhoods. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “You know I was just looking out for Hutch and I stand by that. But I regret the way things went down between us.”

“I know. I’m sorry too,” he said, as we arrived at the tree and leaned against the trunk. 

There was a long pause. Frankly, I wasn’t satisfied yet.

He exhaled and rubbed his temples. “I hate that I hurt Hugo. I didn’t think about it at all and then when you confronted me, I brushed it off as a little crush. Sometimes I think he’s still nine years old— Lily too—but I need to give him more credit than that. Is he very angry?” He fidgeted nervously, anticipating my response.

“No. No, Hutch is far more level-headed and forgiving than I am. He’s not angry with you and he’s going to be fine.” Al looked visibly relieved. “What came over you so quickly anyway? We’ve known Lizzie for years, why the sudden interest?”

“I have no idea. I always thought she was cool. Then, the last few months, I started noticing how bright she is, how vibrant. She’s so pretty and she’s— I don’t know—she’s creative, she’s inspiring. I’m no good at talking about this stuff, Rose, you know that.”

He was endearingly flustered and I started to melt towards him. At least he seemed serious about Elizabeth and didn’t abuse Hutch’s feelings for a meaningless fling.

“Thank you for trying at least. And she feels the same? This is a thing?”

His motion in response was something I would describe as an affirmative shrug. 

“And thank you for admitting you hurt my baby brother and that you were being a big, fat, stupid jerk.” He shot me a look. “So I will allow you to date Elizabeth, since you guys fancy each other and all—”

“—Oh thank you, Princess,” he interjected sarcastically.

“—And I will support you,” I spoke over him. “But talk to Hutch? Explain yourself a little and give him the heads up.”

“Aw, I don’t think he would want to talk about it. I wouldn’t want to if I were him. I’d want everyone to forget all about it.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” My brother shared Al’s distaste for talking about feelings. “It’s your decision, I guess.”

He nodded. “I’m glad we’re good anyway,” he said. “Fighting with you gives me headaches.”

I smiled and invited him to share my blanket. “I missed you too. And I’m glad you’ve found someone you like. Elizabeth is amazing. I went into fierce protective mode because Hutch is my baby brother, but I love you too. You’re my cousin and my best friend and I love you too.”

We made our way back inside, as the sun wasn’t quite strong enough to combat the cold. “Refill?” Al asked, gesturing to my empty teacup. 

“Yes, thank you, but get me some of that rooibos tea Peter brought back from Africa,” I said.

“Peter came by?” Dom sat up from where she was laying on the couch. 

“Oh, yeah. He stopped by this morning. Only for a few minutes.” I made my way over to Dom while Al fixed our tea.

“Shame I missed him. I figured he would be busy with his family since he only has a short holiday before getting back.” She slouched, obviously disappointed.

“He asked after you,” I said, hoping to give her some conciliation. 

She perked up a little. “He did?”

He had asked after a lot of the family, but he did inquire as to how Dom was. “He doesn’t leave until after New Years. You should reach out to him,” I said. 

She sighed and flopped herself back on the couch. “Maybe.”

“I’ll go with you if you’d like,” I offered. I would have to talk with Frank at some point.

She agreed to go and visit the Longbottoms with me in a few days time. 

* * *

Al, Dom, and I Floo’d to the Longbottom’s London flat around dusk on New Year’s Eve. We were warmly welcomed by Neville and Peter, who reported that the girls and Frank were out picking up a few things for the evening’s festivities. New Year’s Eve at the Longbottoms was usually a good time, because they had a prime view of the London fireworks that us country folk missed out on.

Dom was uncharacteristically shy as we were ushered into the kitchen for tea, but Peter was talking animatedly. “Dom, you would love Cape Town. It reminds me of you. There are so many trails and hikes to do on the weekends and I’ve been rock climbing and I’m learning to surf. It’s a very cool, vibrant city.”

“You? Surfing?” she said in disbelief, her awkwardness dissolving. She cocked her head and glanced him up and down. “You have gotten pretty tan. And you’re not afraid of sharks?”

“Some of the friends I’ve made gave me what is supposed to be a repellant potion, but they could definitely be messing with me. Most of the Xhosa they’ve taught me is complete rubbish. I buy it every time, of course.” Dom laughed brightly. Peter had put her at ease and lit her right back up in no time at all. “You should visit after graduation,” he said, and his voice lowered ever so slightly. “Seriously.”

She blinked at him a few times and smiled tentatively. “I don’t know, it sounds like the perfect place for me to break an ankle or lose a limb.”

“That’s true,” Peter said. “You’re the most uncoordinated athlete I’ve ever met. Wait, you’ve got to try these biscuits I brought back,” he said, rummaging through the cupboard. 

“I finished them,” Neville said, looking guilty.

“I’ve got another stash in my room,” he gestured for her to follow him upstairs and she trotted along after him, a cautiously optimistic expression on her face.

Smiling to myself, I accepted my cup of tea from Neville and looked out the window at West London. “Do you like living in the city?” I asked my Professor. “Do you wish you had a garden?”

Neville smiled and tapped his mug, thinking about it. “At first, when we were living above the Cauldron, before I was teaching, I used to want out of the city. But it was where Hannah needed to be, so though I couldn’t work with my own magical plants or conduct experiments, I just planted some herbs in our windowsill and spent my lunch breaks in Regent’s Park and was happy to do so for her. Now, I don’t mind the city because I spend most of my time on the wide, open spaces of the Hogwarts grounds, with a massive greenhouse and all the resources I could want. And here she is, coming to be where I am this time.”

Hannah was turning over all management duties at the Leaky Cauldron this year and would take the matron post Madam Spore was vacating in the fall. With the entirety of her family at Hogwarts most of the year, she had decided to train in Healing so she could be there too. 

“That’s marriage, kids, your parents will tell you,” Neville said with a sigh. “Their dreams become your dreams too. Marry someone who cares about your dreams,” he said. Neville, being a teacher and a romantic, was prone to give out these little, unsolicited pearls of wisdom from time to time. 

I shot Al a pointed grin. The parents hadn’t been fully updated on Al and Elizabeth’s burgeoning relationship, so Neville might have a lot more advice coming in a much sterner tone for Al soon. 

Hannah, Frank, and the girls burst through the door, flushed from the cold, in a flurry of coats and hats and bags full of streamers and party poppers and hats. 

“Hi, kids. Hi, love,” Hannah said, kissing Neville on the cheek. “We picked up a few fun Muggle party things for those who are underage and can’t celebrate with magic.”

Frank was avoiding eye contact with us, unpacking the bags and making himself busy around the kitchen. Rolling my own eyes, I left my spot at the window nook and walked over, facing him across the kitchen counter. “Could I speak with you, Frank?” I said, a thick coating of sarcastic politeness.

He made eye contact briefly, looked away again, sighed, and conceded. I followed him out onto the balcony and he shut the door behind us. 

“I feel like such a bloody idiot,” he mumbled, leaning against the railing. “It’s one thing to ditch you, but I’ve been like a dog after scraps at the table with Andie. You were right, of course. She was only using me as a piece in her row with Cam and I was happy to be that because I wanted to be the guy for once.”

“Andie never should have asked you to the Ball, for loads of reasons. But she has been using you to fulfill any needs she’s not getting from Cam and you’ve been very accommodating. She’s got everything she wants between the two of you.”

“Well, enough of that. I can’t even think of her without feeling a bit ill. It’s so humiliating.” 

Though he didn’t actually apologize, he was too down for my heart to be in any scolding. Sufficiently reconciled, we moved on to wondering how awkward things would be with Andie back at school and what degree of friendship we even wanted with her.

We made our way back to the crowd inside. Alice was flipping through stations on the wireless and Neville and Hannah were in the kitchen, baking cookies. Peter and Dom were causing quite the scene in the living room. What began with Peter dumping glitter on Dom’s head had turned into full sparkles-and-streamers warfare, with Dom was currently wrapping Peter in streamers like a straight-jacket. Peter broke free, grabbed her around the waist, and began tickling her, which was met with shrieks and protests from Dom. 

“Oi, what’s going on in there?” Hannah called from the other room. The only response was the pounding of feet running and more squeals from Dom. Al and Elizabeth had clearly taken advantage of the chaos and escaped together. 

Soon the Potters joined us and by midnight’s arrival, my parents, Dean Thomas, Roxie and the rest of us were all crammed onto the Longbottom’s balcony, ringing in the New Year with bangs and whizzes and flashing lights, not suspicious to Muggles on this night.

Jake had kept away, wisely, and James with him, but his younger siblings, twins Adam and Noelle, were in attendance, running around in the streets below banging pots and pans with Alice. When their mother, and Dean’s wife, had passed away years ago, Dean started coming by a lot more often and that was what had elicited the bond between Jake and the rest of us. I knew ultimately it would withstand the breakup.

* * *

Tentatively, I pushed my trolley through the crowd at the train platform. I felt a little sick at the thought of seeing Andie; my stomach had been doing nervous flips all morning and I had no appetite. It was a trait I found most inconvenient—even the slightest apprehensions would manifest in full physical symptoms. 

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to reconcile with her. Our friendship hadn’t been very healthy for the past year now and I still resented her for prioritizing Cam over everything else. However, she had been my closest female friend my entire Hogwarts career and I wasn’t one to throw away history like that. Not to mention, we would still be in close proximity all the time. Hugging my mother and trying to steady my nerves, I resolved to let her behavior inform mine. 

Lugging my case onto the train, I inched through the whirl of students, peeking in compartments for friendly faces, unsure of whether or not Al and Frank were already installed in one. 

I didn’t find them, but I was able to claim an empty compartment. I settled in, closing the door and hoping that people would take that as a sign that the compartment was taken and the occupant didn’t feel up to socializing right now, thank you very much. 

However, blissful silence was interrupted within a minute when the door slid open and I looked up, hoping to find Al or Frank. I certainly didn’t expect to see Malfoy, who looked equally surprised. I hadn’t seen him in a while, other than a brief hello at the Ball, and was a little startled by my immediate reaction of thinking how attractive he looked. His lips were remarkably lush and his hair was falling in his face a little. The sea-green eyes, set atop impeccable cheekbones, scanned my surroundings.

“What are you doing shut up in here all alone?” he asked, looking around as if there was any hidden space in a compartment someone could be hiding in.

“I was _trying_ to avoid everyone, but you’re making it difficult,” I said, a bit of a laugh to let him know I was (sort of) joking. “How was your holiday?” I asked, as he scooted out of the way of passerbys and deeper into the compartment.

“So nice. Last term was really exhausting. We went skiing in Switzerland for a few days. And Hannah came by a couple times.”

I sat up in interest. “Wow, that’s serious!”

He scoffed, but seemed chuffed. “It’s not a big deal; it was just a dinner or two. My parents did really like her though.”

What was undeniably jealousy spiked strongly and suddenly within me. I hadn’t realized until now how much I liked the exclusivity of my position as the only girl that had been to the Malfoy home and how I didn’t like sharing Astoria’s regard, or worse, being surpassed. I faked, hopefully convincingly, my congratulations.

Al, Elizabeth, and Frank appeared in the doorway and wiggled their way into the compartment, exchanging pleasantries with Malfoy. Al invited him to join us, but he said he had someone waiting for him and he’d see us at the prefect meeting. I pursed my lips. I should have been pleased his taste in women was improving and that he was taking this one seriously, but I found myself irked.

Al and Elizabeth sat sweetly opposite Frank and I, their hands intertwined. They did make a cute couple. Al was growing into his gangly limbs, although still shorter than most of the Weasley boys. Somehow, his personal style had recently come into fashion as well. His cardigans and skinny ties were suddenly on trend and the glasses that had always been a necessity now fit as a hip accessory as well. He still had ridiculously messy dark hair and was thin, but it worked for him now. Elizabeth, waifish and slender, was always adorable and exuded an elegance that had eluded her siblings. She had cropped her brunette hair into a cute pixie cut that flattered her elfish looks. Both had lovely green eyes. 

The lot of us discussed what we would do about Andie until I felt guilty of gossip and leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes until Frank jolted me awake for the meeting. 

* * *

As Andie sat with Cam at the Ravenclaw table for the feast, I didn’t have to deal with her until bedtime. It appeared she was going with “I Will Not Acknowledge Any Wrongdoing on My Part and Instead Passive Aggressively Fake My Way Through Conversation With You"— a classic of hers. 

I wasn’t afraid to confront her; I just didn’t see it doing any good. She would never be prompted to self-reflection or repentance and she would be right in accusing me of being bitter and resentful. So we squeezed a few minutes of stunted conversation out while getting ready for bed and retreated to our four posters as soon as possible.

There was no gentle easing back into term, things blasted off to full-speed right away. I found my self quite exhausted. Between challenging coursework and increasing prefect duties, I was stretched for time and energy. Not to mention my “trusty” “partner” Malfoy continually blew me off during patrols to be with Hannah.

Though I didn’t give my irritation away when she sat down on the bench beside me one February evening in the library.

“Hey, Rose,” she said, excitedly. “I’m putting together a little surprise party for Scorpius’s birthday, next Saturday in the Room of Requirement. Would you want to come?”

I blinked in surprise. Both because the idea of a party was a bit of a jolt to me in a season of all-consuming work, and that his girlfriend thought to specifically seek me out and invite me. 

"Oh sure, of course," I said, dazed. I would have to think of something to get him, as he had given me thoughtful presents both at my birthday and Christmas. I absentmindedly touched the Snitch necklace I was rarely seen without. But what could I possibly get Malfoy?


	16. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny tease of a chapter!

“Surprise!”

Instead of dessert with my girlfriend in the Room of Requirement, as I was promised, I was met with a chorus of cheers. There were twenty or so people gathered with party hats and sparklers, whooping. I was shocked to my very core, not only because it was a surprise, but because I couldn’t recall a time I’d ever seen such a sight. My parents’ idea of birthday celebrations were usually an elegant dinner, a day of horseback riding, a weekend out-of-town. It wasn't the most social childhood.

I turned and grinned at Hannah, who was bouncing beside me with impish glee. “Too much too soon?”

I kissed the side of her head and wrapped my arm around her. “Yes. But I like it. Thank you.”

Hannah paraded me around to my party-goers— the other prefects, members of the Quidditch team, some Ravenclaws, and a few students from the other Houses. I saw Xavier talking to Al and his girlfriend over some butterbeer, an inspiring picture of inter-House unity.

My brow furrowed slightly before I corrected it. I thought if Al was here then Rose might have come along as well. Not something that should even have crossed my mind when Hannah had organized an exceedingly thoughtful surprise party for me, but Rose had crossed my mind more than she should for the past several months.

It dated back to the summer, though, in all honesty, probably before even that. There had been no dramatic makeover— her hair was still laughably bushy and untamed and thick jumpers were still the crux of her wardrobe. And yet I was inexplicably attracted to her. I had felt drawn to her all year, a most inconvenient chink in the armor of my carefully crafted persona of aloof and above-it-all. But it was entirely absurd, I knew that.

So, I moved on, to something with actual potential— Hannah. Cute, easy-going, and fun, she’s was any bloke’s dream and a far cry from Rose. I liked her and enjoyed spending time with her, truly. There was a reason she’s the only girl I’d ever bothered getting serious with and it was because she was too good to let pass by.

There was just the occasional, mild disturbance from that most untrustworthy organ— the heart. Glancing over to the Gryffindor table, where Rose was drinking her tea, a little too often, laughing a little too hard at one of her witty comments, smiling a little too affectionately when she scored in Quidditch. Looking for her at my birthday party instead of fawning over the amazing girlfriend who threw it.

“Well, look who’s legal.” The voice came from behind me and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turned to find Rose herself, head cocked and a smirk playing on her lips. Her cool demeanor couldn’t hold for long though, and a goofy grin spread across her face. “The legal eagle!” she said, with dorky glee and hand gestures.

I scoffed and shook my head. She held a little package, which she handed to me. “Open it later,” she said, waving off my you-shouldn’t-haves.

“Thanks for, uh— I’m glad you’re here.” It didn't go unnoticed that she had to personally deliver it, rather than leave it on the table like everyone else.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” she said, a catchphrase of ours, it would seem.

I sighed and smiled, looking down at the floor.

Haughtily, apparently in an attempt at an imitation of my accent and cadence of speech, she said, “I _know_ you, Malfoy. You’re a coffee snob and a cat person and your wand is elm and phoenix core. You like Muggle Studies, you’re afraid of mermaids, you secretly root for the Cannons—”

“—Alright, that’s enough,” I said, moving forward like I was going to put my hand over her mouth.

She caught my hand though, and said, laughing, “And you care, Malfoy, a lot more than you let on.” Playfully, I yanked my arm back, but she came with it, drawing us close. There was a pause— she was clasping my hand near her heart and my eyes, involuntarily, flickered to her lips. She flushed, released me, and stepped back, but continued unfazed. “And you love to make speeches where you argue by simply listing things until everyone gets bored and concedes.”

“Yeah, I got over my fear of merfolk _years_ ago, by the way,” I whispered. It was important to address that point.

She giggled and ran a hand through the wild, auburn hair. "Also, I hope you know that Hannah is clearly way too good for you, by the way."

"Oh, I'm definitely aware," I said, which it was completely true. 

"I've barely seen you this term, which I suppose means things are going well?" she said, shifting ever so slightly to a probing tone.

It was true that I may have put a little distance between Rose and myself, though I hadn't realized she noticed. I tried to perform my prefect duties with Hannah when I could, and occasionally even avoided Rose during the rounds I still was partnered with her for. What choice did I have? The cure for the odd fancy that ailed me was less time with Weasley, especially alone, and more with Hannah.

"Tremendously. You'd be very proud," I said. Her face was a cool mask. I added, "Being a good boyfriend _does_ sometime means devoting less time to nemeses-turned-friends, you know how it goes." My tone was joking, but I thought I detected a tiny twitch of something—annoyance? Disappointment? Had she taken offense because she _didn't_ know how it went, her only experience being that farce of a relationship with Oliver? 

"Of course," she said. Her smile was back, but with an oddly sad twinge to it. "I'm well-acquainted with that change in dynamic." 

My chest tightened. A part of me was wrestling with the idea that she thought I didn't care about her anymore, like Andie or even Al, who was pretty preoccupied with his own new relationship. But the pragmatic side of me, the side that was in control, knew it had to be this way. I couldn't let myself get invested in something that would never happen, that I wasn't even sure I _wanted_ to happen.  There was no future for us. It was inconceivable. Anyways, she had made it clear that she wasn’t interested. She thought herself quite above me.

I swatted away the urge to hug her. Merlin, it was so much easier when she repulsed me.

Later, Cam and I were lounging on a sofa that the Room had produced, surveying the scene. “Hannah was nervous you weren’t going to be happy,” Cam said, taking a swig of his drink.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise and chuckled. “I’ve cultivated an aura of elusive mystery too well. I do have friends and I actually don’t mind being around them,” I said, gesturing to the crowd. “It was sweet of her to put it together.”

“She’s very sweet. Cool, too. And,” he added, chuckling, “I don’t mind that I see a lot less of Weasley now, between you having a girlfriend and her falling out with Andie.”

I was a bit taken aback. “I didn’t realize you were so opposed to Weasley.”

Cameron scoffed. “ _What_? Are you serious? I didn't really have a choice; you haven’t stopped complaining about her since we started at Hogwarts!”

“No, no, I know! I just didn’t know you felt so strong as well.”

Cam shrugged. “I guess I absorbed it from years of listening to you.”

I rubbed my neck and winced. “Yeah…I don't know. She's not _so_ bad. We're getting along these days,” I glanced over to where Rose was animatedly telling a story to a captive audience.

“Wow, Hannah’s had more of an impact on you than I realized. You’ve gone soft,” Cam guffawed.

I laughed off his comment weakly. I was content with him believing that was the case.

It was nearly sunrise by the time I returned to my dorm, as I had a snog with Hannah after the rest of the party had dwindled down. I glanced at the little pile of gifts at the base of my bed. They could wait until I had a couple hours of sleep in me. Except maybe one.

Glancing at my dormmates to ensure they were sleeping, quietly as a I could, I peeled off the shiny, starry paper Rose had wrapped the present in. Under the wrapping was a clear container and inside that container was a tiny cake. Opening the lid, I found that on top of the cake perched an insanely detailed and beautifully crafted dragon, made out of frosting, by the look of it. Colombian Blue Horn— very cool breed.

The note taped to the lid said, “Make a wish and tap your wand to the dragon.” I tapped the dragon and nothing happened. Exhaling in annoyance, I whispered, “I wish for top marks this term, or to be Head Boy or something,” and tapped it again. The little, confectionery dragon sprang to life, flapping it’s frosting wings in a lap around the cake, before breathing a tiny flame that lit the candle. I couldn’t help but grin. It was like seven year-old Scorpius’s dream. And it was achingly adorable of Rose— my favorite creature topping my favorite kind of cake (German chocolate).

I blew out the candle and took a couple bites out of the cake, before stashing the rest away for later. I fell asleep with an annoyingly persistent smile parked on my face.


	17. Progress and Regress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man, guys. These Cursed Child spoilers have me pretty bummed.  
> *runs back to headcanons*

_You are cordially invited to join the Weasley family and the Lupin family in celebrating the marriage of Victorie Vivienne Weasley to Edward Remus Lupin_

_July 11th, 2023_

_Cassiopeia Cottage, Keswick_

I stared at the embossed words, marveling at the idea that my cousin— someone in my generation— was getting married. Teddy had proposed last summer, so it wasn’t exactly a new idea, but it was still hard to process. 

“Should be fun,” Al said, looking over his own invitation. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a wedding.” We were seated at the Great Hall and, having gotten up early, were enjoying a leisurely breakfast. I had been waking up uncharacteristically early and going to bed extra late, mostly due to the fact that things weren’t comfortable in my room.Andie and I weren’t openly fighting, but it was awkward and glossing over it with insipid small talk made me extremely anxious.

I nodded absentmindedly. “Strange, though. It almost feels like, I don’t know, like it's time to be grown-ups.”

Al snorted into his orange juice. “Rose, Vic is six years older than us. We’re still in school. We don't have to do anything but do well in class.”

“No, I know that, but you know what our family is like. The older cousins set the standard to which we’re all going to be compared. Whatever, no, I’m excited. It’ll be lovely,” I said, brushing it off and opening my next piece of mail. Rigby had her talons full this morning.

It was a letter from mum, excitedly detailing the passing of some legislation that she had been championing for a while. The pressure to get to the level of my cousins accomplishments was nothing of course, compared to my mother.

I noticed Astoria’s owl swoop in overhead and land gracefully at the Ravenclaw table, where he distributed a package to Malfoy. I hadn’t heard from Astoria in quite a while, probably not since Christmas holidays. Not since Malfoy started dating Hannah. I resolved to write to her. It’s not like Malfoy’s relationship status had to in any way affect my correspondence with her.

Next to me, Al exclaimed, “Hey!” I turned. He wasn’t looking at me, but at the letter in his hand. “I got that summer internship at St. Mungo’s.”

“Of course you did!” I congratulated him profusely, just as Elizabeth and Frank sat down to join us. Al shared his news and Elizabeth beamed with adoring pride. The prospect of becoming a Healer had only recently struck Al’s fancy, but the idea had settled in him pretty solidly and he was well-suited to it.

“I’ll be shadowing some Healers three days a week,” he said, looking over the acceptance letter.

“Mm, and I can come in and do those art workshops with the patients that you mentioned,” Elizabeth said, rubbing his back. 

Al nodded enthusiastically and the two began discussing summer plans with such fervency that it almost felt sunny.

Frank’s nose was already buried in a book. He had taken a new, rigorous approach to his studies since his New Year’s Resolution to take more charge of his life. He was actually doing tremendously well; he had a disciplined running schedule early in the mornings, rain or shine, which had improved his health and countenance, and he was scoring brilliant marks on everything he turned in. 

“Hey, what’d you get for number seventeen on the Transfiguration worksheet?” he asked. Holding my toast in my mouth, I reached for my bag to consult my work. “And are you still meeting with my dad this afternoon?”

I had an appointment scheduled with Professor Longbottom, as he was my Head of House, to “discuss my future.” We had met last year, as was customary, to talk about O.W.Ls and what I would have to achieve to further my career goals. Except, I hadn’t been sure of what those were yet and Professor Longbottom wouldn’t let me just take all the subjects at N.E.W.T level to cover my bases. I had chosen Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies and Herbology. It was a risk to leave out Potions, as it was a valuable skill to have in any field, but it wasn’t my strongest subject and I didn’t want struggling through one class to pull focus away from the others. 

I entered Professor Longbottom’s cozy office later than afternoon and, after offering me tea and a biscuit, he explained that, he didn’t want to put pressure on me, but this was a good time for students to begin thinking about a particular career path or field of interest. “I know it seems soon,” he said sympathetically, placing my cup of tea and biscuit on the side table next to me, “but I just want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to help you along in this time.”

Damn his diligence as a mentor. I was trying to avoid my future and here he was, waving it in my face. “I— I don’t know,” I sputtered. “There are things that I’ve considered… teaching, or the law maybe…How’re you supposed to choose before you’ve even tried it?”

“Well,” he said, in a calm, business-like manner that set me at ease. “Transfiguration, Charms and Muggle Studies are your best subjects,” he said, examining my marks. “Closely followed by History of Magic and DADA. We know you’re not lacking in talent or skill. You’ve got a lot to work with.” He smiled warmly, his brown eyes crinkling with sincere affection. “Now there are some professions such as Auror or Healer that would require a N.E.W.T in Potions, but if you were really interested, there are things that can be done.”

“I don’t have the stomach to be a Healer. When Hugo cut his foot open on glass last summer, I nearly fainted. And even though it’s kind of the family business, I can’t see myself as an Auror either.”

Neville smiled. “Okay. That’s the _Potter_ family business anyway.”

I returned his smile, but my hands were shaking and my heart was racing. I had kept the anxiety about the future thus far at bay, but now it was bubbling up in me, rising from the depths of my stomach up to my throat, where I felt it might strangle me.

Neville advised me to continue to think on the matter and provided me with some pamphlets detailing some career options, accompanied by an extra biscuit for the road. 

“Thank you, Professor,” I said, as he escorted me to the door. As he turned towards his desk I mumbled, “Um, Neville?” He looked up at me, slight surprise on his face as we refrained from calling him by his first name on Hogwarts grounds. “Could I maybe have a hug?”

He sighed and smiled affectionately. “Of course, Rose, of course.” His wooly cardigan, so like my own father’s, was comfortingly familiar, but deepened the ache in my heart. I missed my parents. 

“It’s going to be just fine,” he said, with a parting pat on the shoulder. 

I walked back to the common room in a daze. I used to dream about how great it would be once I graduated and could actually get my life started, but right now all that looked like was responsibility and pressure and uncertainty.

The stress was joined by dread when I realized that if I went back to the dorm, there was a good chance of being stuck in close, tense quarters with Andie. I made a grunt of frustration. This had to get resolved, one way or another.

* * *

 

Saturday morning, I sat in the empty Quidditch stands, shivering, holding two cups of coffee that I was periodically reheating with my wand. I had asked Andie to meet me so we could talk and address what was going on between us. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t only shaking due to the cold— the prospect of a confrontation was a little terrifying. I would only feel worse if I didn’t resolve it, though.

After a few more minutes of anticipation, she appeared, a speck in the distance that grew steadily until she was sitting beside me. I passed her the coffee and after a remark about the weather said, “So, I obviously reacted a little strongly to the whole Ball situation. And I’m sorry that I kind of blew up at you. I understand if that seemed like it came out of nowhere.” I had put a lot of thought into being as gracious as possible towards Andie’s perspective. “But it was the release of pent-up frustration that I should have been more upfront with you about throughout.”

She nodded a little, but didn’t seem pleased. “And what was it that was frustrating you? I admit that it was stupid of me to play games with Cam and Frank like that; I just got carried away. But clearly there were issues before that.”

“I think it was mostly that I felt like I was losing you to Cam more and more? You were so involved in your relationship that, to me, our friendship wasn’t even functioning anymore.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Well, if you thought I was withdrawing, it was probably because I always felt like you were silently judging me.”

A tiny prickle of indignation sparked in my chest. “I was the one encouraging everyone to be supportive of you and Cam.”

“Yeah, you never explicitly vocalized any disapproval, but I still picked up on it. You lumped Cam in with Scorpius and you didn’t like the way I conducted my relationship and maybe that’s why I pulled back. And it’s not pleasant confiding in someone who is not only judging you, but who never opens up to you either.”

“Never opens up? What do you mean?” I said, truly taken aback.

“When was the last time you shared anything with me? Anything real or vulnerable?”

Stunned, I couldn’t think of an example. Blinking a couple times, I said, “I suppose you’re right, I haven’t, lately. I wasn’t consciously withholding. I think I must have stopped trusting you on some level, because I felt a little abandoned.”

She made a noise that was slightly more polite than a scoff. “I felt abandoned too. You were my best friend, but I always knew I came second or third for you. And then on top of it, didn’t feel like I could share with you anymore.”

My brows furrowed, my stomach tied up in knots, and my brain frantically tried to process it all. I was angry with her. I was convinced that she hadn’t been a good friend. I was upset that it seemed as if she would have been content to simply never be friends again. And I was troubled by this possibility that I hadn't been as good of a friend as I had thought. 

On some level, I suppose I was trying to protect myself, but clearly that had resulted in alienating the one friend I had who wasn’t bound to me by familial love (Frank was basically family). Surely it didn’t bode well if I had no friends outside my family. 

Sitting there frowning in the cold, I grappled with the possibility that maybe I had a bad attitude. That deep down, I thought I was always the better friend and the bigger person. I tried to swallow my pride in small doses. “Yes. I may have stepped away from you every time I perceived you stepping away from me.”

“Right, you should have pressed in,” she said emphatically. “You should have made me feel like you _wanted_ my attention and confidence and time.”

I scratched my brow. “That may be true. But it shouldn’t be my sole responsibility to maintain the friendship. I should have pursued, but you put the initial gap there in the first place, so the blame can’t rest _entirely_ on me.” I was very concerned with trying to be fair and not overly defensive, but I didn’t think I was entirely wrong in my convictions either. 

“I didn’t put the gap there; I just had a boyfriend.”

“I guess in my insecurity I registered you as pushing me away, even if that’s not what you intended.”

“Fine, but that’s _not_ what I intended.”

“Rosie! Andie!” A voice called in the distance, but still booming, which could only mean one person.

“Hagrid!” I said, a little weakly. 

He marched up to where we sat, shaking the stands with every step he took. “The two of yeh haven’a been ‘round the cottage for tea all term!” He scolded us warmly, completely oblivious to the tense situation he was disrupting. 

As Hagrid rambled about the progress he was making with his herds, I had time to think. I realized that Andie wasn’t going to concede at all, which presented me with a choice. Either swallow my pride, let go of my resentment, and fully forgive and accept her as a friend again, or decide to be done with the friendship entirely. 

I waited patiently for small talk with Hagrid to come to a close, shaking a little, though relatively composed considering how deeply I disliked confrontation. 

With a promise to come for a visit soon, Andie and I resumed our conversation. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I said. “I truly didn’t mean to, or even realize I could. I hope you know I care about _you_ more than I care about all the rest of it.”

After a beat, she said, “I think Hagrid was that ice-breaker we needed,” and squeezed my hand. We mutually leaned into a hug. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder,” she said, muffled into my hair.

“I really don’t have a problem with Cam or anything. It was only that we never saw you,” I clarified as we broke apart. My thoughts briefly flickered to how she treated Frank, and a protective, angry feeling briefly rose up in me on his behalf. I simply couldn’t go there if I wanted to be friends with Andie though. 

“I thought your hatred of Malfoy had inevitably transferred a bit to him,” she said. 

“I don’t _hate_ Malfoy. He can be arrogant and irksome, but we’re, you know, friends. In our own way.”

Though deeply glad to have matters resolved between us, I left the encounter shaken, as if I had been in a physical altercation rather than a verbal one. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed— my bed back home, not in Gryffindor Tower. 

Instead, I shuffled around the halls blankly, running our conversation through my mind, wondering if I was all those things Andie had said. Maybe if I passed by the Room of Requirement it would turn into a cozy little fort for me to retreat to.

Thinking about how I needed a quiet, comfortable place, I was relieved to see doors appear, signifying that it wasn’t already in use. However, upon entering, I found James, sprawled out on a couch that was littered with books and papers. The Room was sparsely decoratedand organized in a way that was instantly relaxing. My cousin looked up at me in surprise.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked.

“I needed a quiet place to prepare for a presentation I have this week,” he huffed.

“I love that for all your swagger, you’re actually a huge nerd.”

“Showmanship is equally as important as content, Weasley,” he said, never remotely bothered by my teasing.

I flopped down on his couch, burying my head in the cushions. 

“What’re _you_ doing here?” he asked.

I explained about my conversation with Andie. 

James scoffed. “Rose, don’t worry about her. She’s _way_ out of line!You’re perfect,” he said, patting me on the head. “Ugh, that makes me so mad. Want me to fight her?” 

My mouth twitched. “No, thanks though.” As validating as James’s indignation was, it didn’t exactly make me feel any better. If I wasn't even a good friend, what was I? A good student, but not the best. No clue of what to do with her life. Never the girl the guy likes. Average in comparison to the rest of her family.

Droopy sadness descended and dozed off on the couch, but not before asking James to wake me at noon, as I had to meet with Malfoy to study for a History of Magic exam. But after being roused and shuffling off to the library, I found a note in Malfoy’s handwriting sitting at our usual study table. He asked to reschedule, so he could spend lunch with Hannah. It was a Saturday after all, he explained.

“I woke up for this?” I accidentally said out loud. Rolling my eyes, I slumped down in the chair and pulled out my book and notes, resigned to be irritated for the rest of the day. 


	18. Bench/ Press

Early in March, we had a Hogsmeade weekend that happened to coincide with my fourth month with Hannah. I wasn’t exactly one to make a fuss over a trivial month-iversary, but after she threw me that party, I wanted to give her a pleasant day. We planned to have butterbeers and sneak off for a broom ride to a snowy picnic in the surrounding mountains. Excessively romantic? Perhaps. But considering our last few “dates” had just been hurried snogs while I was supposed to be on prefect duty, I owed it to show her a real classy time.

I was supposed to be on prefect duty today, in fact, but Rose would cover for me if I asked.

Hand in hand, Hannah and I strolled leisurely down the stairs towards where Rose and I usually met up before going on patrols. She was there, slumped at the foot of the staircase, looking like a mess. Her hair was more out of control than usual, so bushy it nearly dwarfed her. Her face was drained of it’s usual flush and there were dark circles under her eyes.

Concern lightly pricked the soft spot Rose had worn in me over the past few months. She'd been a little withdrawn lately, but I had attributed it to general exam stress.

I walked Hannah to the doors of the school. “Hey, why don’t you grab us a spot and I’ll meet you down there? I still have to check with Rose about skivving off.” I made a wincing face in Rose’s direction and I saw her piece it together. “Yeah, check on Rose. But hurry,” she said, with a little smile and a kiss on my cheek.

Feeling pleased that I had chosen such an accommodating girlfriend, I strode over to where Rose sat, staring blankly into the distance. “Hey,” I said, a little tentatively.

Her eyes flickered up and she blinked a few times before registering me and why I was there. “Right. Let’s go.”

I stopped her from standing and sat down beside her. “Actually,” I said, in the long, drawn-out way one speaks when asking for something. “It’s my month-iversary with Hannah, so I was going to ask if you’d cover for me on patrols. If you can’t that’s ok…” I paused, waiting for her to tell me she’d do it, but she just stared. “…But I’d really appreciate it. And I’d owe you one.”

“Fine,” she said flatly. She stood and walked off, nearly concealing her disgust. But not quite.

“Wait, Weasley, what’s wrong?” I said following her outside.

Striding at a quick pace, she whipped her head around, hair flying, and snapped, “Don’t worry about it.”

I paused, considering my next move before jogging off towards where Hannah had gone.

Twenty minutes later, with two hot chocolates in hand, I found Weasley outside Honeydukes. “I told Hannah I couldn’t get out of it,” I said, handing her the steaming cup. “I’m here now.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she blinked a few times, but her shoulders relaxed a little. “Well, now I’m horribly embarrassed,” she said, as we started walking the Hogsmeade streets.

“Don’t be. I’m…” I paused, wincing a little at the information I was about to give away. “Just a little worried about you. You seem really down.”

“I know, I look awful,” she said, self-consciously pulling back her insanely unruly hair.

She looked so helpless; it stirred a physical response in me— the impulse to touch her, pull her into my arms, reassure her. So much more immediate, more effective than weak words and sympathetic expressions. I restrained myself, however, simply saying, “It’s not that,” and resisting the urge to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s stupid,” she said, with a sad smile. “A bunch of tiny, stupid things. I shouldn’t be so…” She scoffed.

I motioned towards a bench just on the outskirts of town. We could sip our drinks and watch the students scuttling around, but we had some privacy. She slumped down and looked at me, those expressive eyebrows curved up, asking one more time if I really wanted to hear this.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a small thing. Go ahead. What’s bothering you?”

She sighed, visibly more relaxed. “Malfoy. I don’t know. It's all slipping away from me. Everyone is progressing— either in relationships or towards a career, and I have no idea what I want to do or if I’ll ever…” She didn't finish the thought. Her face, already flush from the cold, grew redder. “I feel like everyone’s growing up and I have no…” She trailed off again. “And, on top of it, there's the Andie thing."

“I thought you guys had made up?” 

“We did, but it doesn’t change the things she said and the fact that she meant them. And I can’t stop wondering if she was right.”

“What’d she say?”

Rose shrugged and looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh, that I was judgmental. And fake. And a bad friend. And that I never talk about anything real and put up walls cause of…like, my insecurities or something.” She mumbled the last bit and swallowed.

“Well, I can tell you right now if it’s true,” I said, with a furtive smile. Her eyes, hazel and wide, met mine. “You know I’ll be honest with you.”

She perked up a bit. “You’re right. There’s no one in my life I could trust to be upfront with me about my faults, but if there’s anyone who can do it—” she gestured to me. “It’s the bloke who specializes in it.” She chuckled weakly and looked down.

I touched her face, brushing her jaw ever so briefly, so she would look at me again. “You are judgmental, Rose. You have a tendency to look down on people doing anything differently than you would. And then you tell them what you think they should do.” She raised her brows, despite the fact that she had asked for me to be honest. “It isn’t mean-spirited though. You just want what you think is best for everyone. It comes from a good place. What you are most certainly _not_ , is a bad friend. You’re one of the most devoted people I know, and fiercely protective of the people you love. Going all banshee on behalf of your little brother? Stomping around the castle in search of a trashed Lily? Were you sticking your nose in their business? Absolutely. But it’s only because you care _so_ much. I’d rather have you on my side, judgmental interferences and all, than the alternative. Believe me, I know.”

She was blushing furiously and suppressing a smile.

“You’re way too transparent to ever be fake,” I said, with a little scoff. “You couldn’t hide your feelings if you tried, and, in my experience, you make damn sure your opinions and convictions are known.”

“I—” she paused, brows furrowed, collecting her thoughts, “I think I was being fake with Andie though. I resented her relationship and I pretended I didn’t.”

“So now you know, next time, if you find yourself not speaking up, be honest. And the walls…yeah, you will put up walls if you feel like you need to protect yourself. I can’t say I think Andrea is justified in accusing you of that after the treatment she and Cam have dished out this year though.”

Flakes of snow gently started to fall, landing in her hair and melting instantly on her flushed cheeks. She wasn’t resisting looking me in the eyes anymore and her unbroken gaze was almost disturbing. How many times had we truly just looked at each other? Not irritated glances in class, without interruptions by eye-rolls, void of any mocking or teasing. Or, as it had been for me lately, not hurriedly glancing away every few seconds to avoid revealing the change in feelings I had experienced. Despite the snow, I was practically sweating, sitting there, staring at her. I should have chosen a booth inside somewhere, with lots of people around and a nice, solid table to keep me from touching her.

I cleared my throat, but didn’t—couldn’t— look away, “And as for everyone progressing, don’t worry yourself. I’m sure we’ll all change our minds ten times before we land on the profession we’re going to pursue. You have time to figure it out.”

“I work hard, Malfoy, and study so much,” she said, softly. “I feel like I care more than anyone and yet I'm the one that's not getting anywhere. I don’t know what I’d like, or even what I’d be good at. And,” she pursed her lips tightly, “I know, realistically, I likely won’t have any trouble finding a job, because of my family. But that’s no consolation.”

She was blinking very rapidly, keeping tears at bay. I was very familiar with Rose Weasley Almost-Tears, having drawn them out in the past by poking too hard at a sensitive insecurity, or getting us reprimanded for disturbing class. Or by being rude to her at a Ball where I was supposed to be her date. She welled up easily, but had perfected the ability to hold back the tears until she was safely alone.

“Weasley, you’re not going to get a job because of your family, you’re going to get a job because you’re going to be the best candidate. I can’t believe you’re doubting yourself when you’ve spent the last six years proving to me how clever and talented and determined you are.” I gripped her shoulder tightly, the least sexual contact I could manage. “You can do whatever you want.”

"Thank you," she said, but I wasn't done.

“You're being crazy, Rose. You’re great at loads of things. You’re the best at Transfiguration and damn good at Charms too. You love Muggles; you could research and report on their culture and technology. You love history, you could be the next Bathilda Bagshot.” Her nose scrunched up in disgust. “Fine, but you could write. I’ve sat next to you for years; I know you’re a great writer.”

“Are you saying you copied off me?” she quipped, a hint of her usual spunk surfacing. I released her shoulder.

“Only the assignments I found too boring to do.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Seriously though. Writing is something you like and are good at. Journalism, research studies, fiction, anything. Or something completely different. You’ll kill at whatever you end up doing.”

Far more sincerely than the first time, she said, “Thanks, Malfoy," and I felt like I had actually convinced her. So I went on.

“And it feels like everyone is dating now, but please. It’s Hogwarts. Trust me, just because people got together doesn’t mean they’re in some profound relationship, or in any way more advanced than you. Half of them will be broken up in a few weeks.” Blushing, she was uncomfortable again, looking away but laughing a little in surprise. Verbally, I was omitting my own relationship, but my heart raced as if I was openly dissing Hannah. I needed to get out of this dangerous territory.

“If you want to get off your high horse and date someone, you obviously can; it’s not like no blokes fancy you. You’re just picky.” 

Probably not the best route out of that territory. She turned back to me, looking entirely astonished. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, a confused grin creeping up her face. “Who fancies me?”

I had a lot of deflecting to do if I was going to successfully backtrack out of the fact that I had essentially downplayed my relationship while praising Rose.

“Oh, I’m Rose Weasley,” I said, sarcastically mimicking her, “Tell me I’m clever, tell me I’ll be successful, list all the prats who fancy me. Validate me, validate me!” My tone was more playful than mean, but it was effective and she groaned in annoyance.

“Get out of here! Go back to your date, weirdo,” she said.

“Are you sure? Remember, be honest,” I said, pinching her cheek.

“Really, it’s fine, go,” she shooed me. After a pause, she was sincere again and said, wincing, “I’m sorry I derailed it in the first place. I’m supremely embarrassed. But thanks for pressing, anyway."

“No worries," I said, clenching my fists in the pockets of my coat. I could not afford to show any more affection to her. I felt guilty enough as it was, even though I hadn't actually done anything. Still, I couldn't help but feel like there was some betrayal of Hannah left there on that bench in the snow and I didn't know why. 

Well, I knew why.


	19. Ball 'Til You Fall

“Stop right there!” I said, grabbing a Slytherin sixth year by the arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you slipping that vial into your robes, give it here.” He reluctantly did as he was bid, and I sniffed the contents of the vial, clearly nicked from the Potions lab. “Firewhiskey. Mmhmm. I’ll be confiscating this.” He and his friend whined, but I shook my head, “You’re lucky I’m not throwing you out! This is a warning.”

  
“Come on, Weasley,” Malfoy said, suddenly next to me. He was always suddenly next to me. “It’s the end of the year; they’re just having a little fun.”

  
“What you expect me to do when they’re in flagrant violation of school rules? I have a job to do. It happens to be your job too, you know,” I said, clutching the vial and shooing the Slytherins. “I’m being generous here.”

  
“It’s a party, Red, you could do with having a little fun yourself!” he said, reaching towards the vial, which I yanked back.

  
“I will when this year is finally over and I head to Ireland for the summer. Until then, I think I’ll just stay peeved,” I said, crossing my arms defiantly.

  
“Remind me to congratulate Eric,” he said, sarcastically.

  
I had come to the Ball with Eric Fallon, a Hufflepuff in our year. I had interacted with him very little over the course of our Hogwarts careers, but had gotten to know him and some of the other under-the-radar Hufflepuffs in N.E.W.T Transfiguration and found him to be surprisingly funny, even charming. He had casually asked if I’d go with him to the Graduation Ball the Headmaster throws for all sixth and seventh years, and I accepted.

  
I glanced over at the table where he sat laughing with his friends, his dark hair pleasantly tousled. I was realizing Eric was kind of boyishly handsome, actually, which was maybe why I was avoiding him. Any chance of an actual connection definitely meant anxiety and a strong chance of rejection. Usually both.

  
“Balls have never gone in my favor anyways,” I said, directing my focus back to Malfoy. I’m only here because I spent so much time organizing this dumb thing. Plus, the staff is picking Head Girl right about now and I need it to be me.”

  
He squinted, his expression somewhere between concerned and condescending.

  
Arms snaked around his torso and Hannah appeared behind him. It was fitting that Malfoy should be with someone who was essentially the polar opposite of me. She was petite, tan, blonde, and athletic. She was cool and easy-going and probably never gave him a hard time. Her dress robes were chic and flattering and her hair was in one of those effortless, messy up-dos. Bold choice, Malfoy, really.

  
“Hey, girl!” she said to me, before facing Malfoy. “I just requested ‘Banshee Bop.’ I wanted to rock out with you,” she tugged on Malfoy’s arm. “Rose, come dance with us!” She bounced energetically.

  
Rather than tell her the truth, which was that I’d rather babysit a horde of Blast-Ended Skrewts, I simply politely declined, citing the need to get back to my date. She implored me to find them later for a dance-off as she dragged Malfoy out towards the floor. A few months ago I would have loved to have a dorky dance-off with Hannah, but now the thought seemed miserable.

  
I moved towards the beverage table, got myself a drink and promptly poured the vial of firewhiskey in, a coy little smile on my face. I did a slow spin to make sure no one had seen, and it seemed like I had gotten away with it, until I made eye contact with Malfoy, jumping on the dance floor, who sent me two thumbs up. Of course. Could I not do a bloody thing without this bloke smirking at me?

  
Shuffling around the perimeter of the dance floor, I tried to restrain from looking over at Malfoy and Hannah, but my eyes kept snapping back to them, against my will. Malfoy had been supremely irritating lately. One day he’s dropping everything to be more supportive and considerate than anyone else in my life, and then he barely acknowledges me in the subsequent weeks. He specifically requested to be paired with Hannah for patrols instead of me. We hardly did any work together anymore.

  
Was it unreasonable for the guy to prioritize his girlfriend? No. But I couldn’t help but be bothered.

  
Al, Elizabeth, and Frank were standing nearby, grazing at the snack table. Thankfully Al and Elizabeth didn’t bother me nearly as much. Hutch had gotten accustomed to it and even seemed to be moving on (according to my sources, he might have a thing with Emily Weaver now). I didn’t see as much of Al as I used to, but he and Elizabeth were bringing out the best in each other.

  
Most of all, it was refreshing to see Al letting his guard down. He had always been concerned with making it seem like nothing could get to him— the fame, the pressure, the expectations that came with being Harry Potter’s son, the teasing from his older brother— nothing could really matter to him. Even though it wasn’t something we openly talked about, I’d known Al my whole life and I knew his approach was if he didn’t care, he couldn't be hurt, or embarrassed, or disappointed. And he usually just settled for the appearance of not caring. But Elizabeth had made him want things and go after them for the first time and I could only be in favor of that. The public affection was only a tiny bit insufferable.

  
I joined them. Frank offered me a butterbeer flavored bonbon and Al gave me a hard time about not spending the Ball with Eric. “I don’t know if he fancies you, but how are you gonna find out if you dodge him all night?”

  
“He’s a cool guy,” Elizabeth, his Housemate, offered. “Super funny.”

  
“Is he?” Frank asked, biting into another bonbon.

  
“Hufflepuffs may not be as loud and flashy as you Gryffindors but, believe it or not, there are some very interesting people in this school that don’t have the surname Potter or Weasley.” She shot Al a cheeky grin before kissing him on the cheek.

  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Al said, in mock ignorance. “There is nothing whatsoever in our genetic code that makes us seek attention.” He gestured to the stage, where James was simultaneously dancing vigorously and attempting to convince the band to let him solo.

  
After my friends had both guilted me and lifted my spirits, I strutted over to join Eric at the table where he was sitting. “So, what is our stance on dancing?” I asked straightforwardly.

  
“Hey welcome back,” he said, a lopsided grin forming on his face. “My Dance Stance is that I’m a horrifying dancer and would never inflict that upon you,” he said, his tone mockingly grave. “But if they play something slow enough where there’s really no moving around required, I’d give it a go.”

  
His casualness continued to please me. The nonchalance with which he was approaching the whole evening relaxed me and I felt relieved of the pressure that had been mounting.

  
A while later, I took a turn around the room, keeping an eye out for anything fishy, when the Headmaster approached me. He was young for a headmaster, only in his mid-fifties or so, and his energy and bright countenance made him seem even younger. He took academics very seriously, but loved a celebration, and therefore had instituted the annual Balls at Christmas and the end of term for the sixth and seventh years.

  
“Good evening, Miss Weasley,” he said, adjusting the square glasses he wore. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.

  
“I am, thank you Headmaster,” I replied cordially.

  
“Excellent work on the decorations. Everything looks tremendous.”

  
“Thank you, sir! Deidre had a lot of great ideas, we just had to figure out how to execute them. I think it came together quite nicely,” I said.

  
“Miss Weasley, I wanted to commend you on the fine job you’ve done this year, both as a student and as a prefect. We’ve been very impressed with your hard work.”

  
I exhaled a little in relief. Maybe my efforts were finally paying off.

  
I thanked him profusely and he smiled a little before lowering his voice and saying, “We’re not supposed to give these things away… but I can’t help but tell you that you are our top choice for Head Girl next year.”

  
I clapped my hand over my mouth, eyes wide, bursting with excitement. I tried to offer muted thanks. “That is really gratifying to hear, sir. Whether or not I’m actually chosen,” I said, throwing in a dash of humility, “it means so much to be recognized by the faculty.”

  
He shook my hand, looking genuinely as thrilled as I was. Professor Green always gave the impression that he genuinely cared a great deal for his students.

  
“May I ask who’s in consideration for Head Boy?” Frank and I would have a lot of fun as Head Boy and Girl.

  
“Oh, I really can’t reveal that, Miss Weasley,” he said, looking like he was trying quite hard to appear stern. After a pause, he cracked a smile and whispered, “Scorpius Malfoy is the lead candidate. That should please you, as the two of you have done some excellent work together.”

  
The anger and resentment once again rose up within me and suddenly I felt reckless. Reckless and unappreciated and bitter. I scoffed. “Right, the work we did. Forgive me Headmaster, I know my opinion doesn’t matter, but, Scorpius Malfoy isn’t the best choice for Head Boy.”

  
He smiled kindly, “You are correct Rose, your opinion will not be taken into consideration in this matter. But please do tell me why you think Mr. Malfoy would be unfit for the post.”

  
“I don’t think he would take the position seriously, sir. I’ve worked with him for a long time and found that he mostly coasts by on his natural intelligence and allows others to pick up the slack. There are plenty of other prefects who would do justice to the title, but Scorpius would certainly neglect it. He’s more concerned with his social life than his responsibilities.”

  
Professor Green looked amused. “Well, thank you for your contribution, Miss Weasley.”

  
I continued, unsolicited. “He can be very arrogant and stand-offish and I just don’t think a person like that is well suited to guiding the younger students.”

  
“I’m afraid the faculty and myself will be deciding based on our own reasoning, however,” the Headmaster said, patiently.

  
“Of course, of course,” I said, flushing at my imprudence. I added in a “Sorry,” but he was already bidding me farewell and returning to the head table. He didn’t look too phased by my remarks, but I couldn’t help but feel a little mortified.

  
And for the second time that night, I found Malfoy suddenly beside me. My stomach plummeted.

  
“Malfoy, I—"

  
“Wow. Bloody brilliant, Rose. You were awfully quick to throw me under the Knight Bus to the Headmaster.” He was growing angrier as he spoke; his fists were clenched, his jaw jut out, and his eyes were alight with rage. “I can’t _believe_ —” he stopped short and grunted in frustration.

  
I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m sorry. Ok? I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said it!”

  
“Merlin,” he said. “I’m done with you being my friend when it suits you and acting like I’m the scum of the Earth when you’re feeling,” he paused, throwing his hands up in defeat, “I don’t know, pissy, or something.”

  
I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the hall into the cool night air of the courtyard. The moonlight made his hair look more silver than blonde and that, coupled with his expression, made him look strikingly like his father. I stood up a little taller to combat his intimidating figure.

  
“I am not pissy. You,” I said, pointing at him, “have been nothing but unreliable as a partner. Ever since you started dating Hannah— not that you were so great before— but ever since you got a girlfriend you’ve consistently abandoned me at every turn!” My finger was still on his chest and he coolly plucked it off. I was reminded suddenly of our first meeting, our first fight on the train so many years ago.

  
“I didn’t realize you needed so much help patrolling the corridors every other week,” he said rolling his eyes. “I’ll try to remember that the little Weasley Princess requires constant attention.”

  
“Malfoy, I don’t think it’s that ridiculous of me to want you to pull your weight some of the time in our joint duties! It’s fair of me to want a partner who’s actually going to do the job!”

  
“Don’t give yourself so much credit. Just because you’re constantly frantically trying to do everything, doesn’t mean you’re doing it well. You’ve been a mess all year— distracted, moody, snappy—and your work is suffering for it. I’ve covered for you numerous times, but won’t do so in the future, if you think you’re so capable.”

  
I sputtered. “Covered for me?”

  
“Revisions, reminders, excuses to Professors; I was cutting you slack because you’ve had a tough year—”

  
“That- that’s not true, I would’ve known if…” I rubbed my temple as if to conjure the memory that way. He had, on multiple occasions, reminded me of deadlines I had forgotten, but talking about me to Professors? Revising work? That couldn’t possibly be true.

  
“You’ve been pretty preoccupied with your various feuds. Andrea, Longbottom, Potter, have you managed to tarnish every single one of your relationships this year?”

  
What he didn’t say, but undoubtedly thought was, “Maybe you _are_ the problem.”

  
Trying to deflect, I said, “I don’t know why you even care. You’ve never acted like any of this was important to you before.” 

“Weasley, this is my future, being Head Boy could make or break my chances after graduation. I thought you knew me by now. I have to establish my merit as an individual as much as possible because being a Malfoy these days can still be a liability. Just because I internalize my stress and don’t have a public meltdown once a week doesn’t mean these things aren’t important to me.” He spoke clearly, despite the emotion.

  
“Well, you should act like it a little more,” I said, feeling less and less like I had a case.

  
He shook his head, not seeming to have heard me. “You know, if the situation were reversed, I would have given you every recommendation. I would have said you were the only person for the job and I would have meant it.”

  
Feebly, I said, “The headmaster said that my opinion didn’t matter to them anyway.”

  
His expression changed, the fury and frustration melting into disappointment. He looked hurt, something I wasn’t prepared for. “You honestly don’t see anything past your own nose,” he said, bewildered. “It mattered to _me_.” With one last look, he strode out of the courtyard.

  
I stood transfixed on the spot, but, internally, was writhing in agitation, My heart pounded furiously in my chest, my stomach churned, my very skin seemed to be vibrating. I walked in circles around the courtyard, repeating to myself, “Okay, okay, it’s going to be okay. It’s okay.” My hands went to my hips and I bent in half, trying to breathe. I put my face in my hands. All the fidgeting and talking to myself failed to quiet the barrage of thoughts that were bouncing violently around in my head.

  
The first was that I was a total prat. I had spoken ill of someone purely out of my own frustrations and managed to embarrass myself in front of the Headmaster in doing so. I had been entirely unfair to Malfoy. How many times had Al or Frank bailed on me and how many times did I readily forgive them?

  
This led to the second disturbance— had I really been so consumed by my own issues that I lost the plot and didn’t even realize it? I’d been thinking Malfoy was skiving off and all the while he was worried about _my_ keeping up?

  
And perhaps most distressing was the horrible realization that Malfoy meant a great deal to me. And evidently, to some extent, I did to him too, which I ought to have realized sooner, rather than being so determined to fixate on his failings. That only made the first issue, of my being a total prat, all the more horrible, because now I had really mucked it all up.

  
Composing myself, I gingerly returned to the Great Hall, determined that this would not be yet another Ball I had to leave early. I sat down with Eric and his friends, addressing them briefly with what I hoped was convincing ease, before retreating into silent contemplation while they laughed and joked amongst themselves.

  
I had invited in the disturbing thought and now, for the first time, allowed it to stay and sit a while. The question of the last couple of years had been so definitively, “Is Malfoy my friend?” that I hadn’t stopped to entertain the question, “Is Malfoy more than my friend?” Against my wishes, I had to concede that the answer must be yes.

  
The irritation I had harbored towards Malfoy and Hannah was not solely due to the effects on our working relationship. The claim I unconsciously exercised over him was not strictly as a study partner. The chill I felt at his touch was not due to the cold. The notice I took of his eyes, his mouth, his tall, toned form, was not objective observation. My rush to get away whenever we got too close was not out of disinterest, but rather fear that it was the opposite.

  
I checked myself. Yes, despite this, I still firmly did not wish to _be_ with Malfoy— all my reservations about his womanizing and trustworthiness remained. However, I could not deny that I had some degree of feeling for him. Reluctantly, I glanced around the Hall, until I spotted him seated with his back to me, talking to Hannah, who’s brow was furrowed. I looked away quickly, freshly mortified.

  
I thought of him diving to save my brother after his fall, taking charge to find Lily and scooping her up off the ground. I thought of his perceptiveness and understanding and gentleness when he noticed I was truly upset, more than once, in fact. He would make an excellent Head Boy, of course. He was a confident leader and people followed him naturally. He was cool under pressure and had proven to care about his fellow students, though I hadn’t given that much thought until now.

  
I was a perfect idiot. At least I didn’t have to worry about what these newly acknowledged feelings might mean, as he would certainly want nothing to do with me in the future.

  
I fiddled with a spoon on the table, twirling it absentmindedly as I stewed in my guilt and regret and shock. After a few failed attempts at conversation, Eric appeared to sense that I wasn’t in a lively mood, but didn’t seem too bothered.

  
I returned to my four-poster at the end of the evening, feeling empty and without a clue as to how I could possibly face Malfoy ever again, in light of everything. The one thing I did know was I would be paying Professor Green a visit first thing in the morning.


	20. Gryffindor Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wee chapter, just a preview really. I mostly want to prove to you guys (and myself) that I'm still alive and updating!

_Malfoy—_

_I’m sure the last thing you want is to hear from me and I don’t blame you. Regardless, I wanted to apologize for being such a world-class prat. I was wrong, both about what I said and the fact I said it at all. You are the right choice for the job and I told Professor Green so at length the next day. I shouldn’t have taken out my issues on you._

_I don’t expect things to go back to the way they were, but I am truly sorry._

_—Rose Weasley_

 

I had sent the letter weeks ago, before we had even returned home for summer holiday. There had been no reply. At first, I hoped he might have sent a response to my house while I was in Ireland, but when I got back all that was waiting for me were a few subscriptions of The Quibbler. 

Ireland _was_ lovely. It was a welcome change of scenery and opportunity to get my mind off of what had been plaguing it. Molly was setting up a branch of WWW in a wizarding village outside Dublin and I went along to help get things off the ground. Spending all my time with my cousin and enthusiastic Irish wizards was fun, but exhausting. I was happy to be home, although I’d miss the charming countryside and warm, Irish lilts.

“He’ll get over it,” Lily was assuring me. “You guys fight all the time and things always blow over.

“This is different. This is fundamental stuff. He may not come around,” I said, taking a sip of lemonade.

We were enjoying a gorgeous summer day in London with Elizabeth. I had made it a priority both to pursue a deeper friendship with Elizabeth, who was getting serious with Al, and to spend more time with Lily. She had a rocky year and I was making a point to be more supportive of her. So, I invited the two of them to go for a picnic on Primrose Hill and was sharing the Malfoy debacle with them. I just left out the minor bit about minor feelings for him surfacing. 

“The thing is,” Elizabeth said, looking up from her sketch of the view, “he wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t really care about your friendship. And since he really values it, he’ll move past this.” 

I sighed. “You didn’t see his face. I misjudged him when we first met and after all this time I still—“ I shrugged. “He probably thinks I never grew up at all. Did I tell you what Victorie asked?” Lily and Elizabeth both shook their heads. “Teddy wants to meet Scorpius. Something about thinking it’d be nice to have some normal, blood relations at his wedding. She thought we were close, but I told her I wasn’t exactly in a position to arrange it.”

“Yeah, we all thought you were getting _close_ ,” said Lily, inexplicably suggestive.

“What?” 

Lily sounded exasperated. “The sexual tension is killing me. I’m so ready for you two to get together already.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” I said, swatting away the thought.

“You’re blushing,” said Elizabeth, with a playful smirk.

“It’s sunburn,” I said, ruffling through my bag for more lotion and taking the opportunity to hide my expression. 

“Hey, Scorpius is highly sought-after for a reason,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not crazy to imagine you could be into him.”

“Sought-after, try he’s taken! And presently hates me. All even assuming I’d want him!” I replied, flustered.

* * *

 

The next day I welcomed a cloudy morning and an empty house. With Hutch out flying with a friend and my parents at work, I was happy to relax and enjoy some time by myself. I spent the morning reading, emerging from the well-worn pages of an old favorite, when I realized I hadn’t eaten in hours. 

After making and devouring a sandwich and putting the kettle on, I was struck with the fancy to bake something. As I scoured the cabinets for sugar, I thought I heard a knock at the door. Confused as to who might be calling, I shuffled towards the entryway, glad I had the sense to change out of my pajamas. 

On the other side of the door I found, to my shock, Scorpius Malfoy. He was wearing a light blue button-down and an expression I couldn’t read. 

“Malfoy?” I sputtered in surprise, my stomach instantly dropping. He remained stoic and wordless. “Come in?” I said, somewhat confused, opening the door for him for him to stride into the house. My hands shook a little as I focused very intently on closing the door. Touching my temple nervously, I turned to face him, dreading what he could have to say, but oddly glad to see him. 

He rubbed his hand on his neck, yet maintained intimidating, unyielding eye contact. “Hi.”

“Hello,” I responded breathlessly. If he didn’t explain himself soon I was going to go mad. A tiny grin appeared on his face, but in a flash was gone. It felt like he was teasing me, but I couldn’t imagine such levity after recent events. 

“How’re you doing?” he asked, revealing nothing. 

“Oh, fine,” I said, hugging myself. “I got back from Ireland a few days ago.” 

“And did you have a good time?” 

“I had a great time, yeah. The Irish wore me out though.” There was a long pause. Amazingly, he still gave no indication as to what he was doing here. “Tea?” I asked, any Briton’s answer to discomfort.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” he said cordially. 

The kettle whistled it’s readiness on cue and I gestured for him to follow me to the kitchen. Reaching for mugs and avoiding eye contact I said, “What, uh, what brings you by, Scorpius?” His first name felt foreign in my mouth. 

“I was just worried about you…” he said, a little smirk at creeping at the corner of his mouth. “An estrangement from me would put anyone’s wellbeing at risk, really, so I figured it was my duty to check on you and make sure you were okay.”

I turned to face him, unable to play along. “I’m not okay. I’m desperately ashamed and so so sorry. I completely—

“Please, Weasley, don’t,” he interrupted. “I’ve moved on. I should have responded to your letter, but I wanted to take some time. I don’t wish to hold one stupid incident against you.” His eyebrows turned upwards and, for the first time since his appearance, sincerity broke through. “That is, presuming you want that?”

“Of course,” I said quickly. I reached across the counter and grasped his hand, very briefly, before swiftly replacing my hand with his cup of hot tea. “We’re friends.”

He grinned. “No matter how many times we may try to wreck it, yes, we seem to be.”

I swallowed, unable to hold direct eye contact. “Cookies?” I asked, in a hurry to evade.

He perked up in surprise. “Is that even a question? Yes, of course.”

“Chocolate chip?”

I set about bustling around the kitchen as we caught up about Ireland and his summer activities. I was still whirling on the inside, shocked that he had forgiven me so readily and was happy to come here and do so in person. I thought whatever it was we had was irrevocably broken. Having him here, sitting at my kitchen counter, looking irritatingly handsome, talking animatedly about a Norwegian dragon he saw at an exhibition, was squeezing my heart almost to the point of soreness. 

“What?” he said, pausing his story and looking at me inquisitively. 

“What?” I said, confused.

“You look like you’re in a daze.”

I couldn’t suppress a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.” I bit my lip. “I think I’m just still a little surprised that you’re here. Scorpius Malfoy, in my kitchen.”

He nodded slowly, eyes cast downwards. “Surely, I _should_ have stayed away. Should know better by now,” he paused, the corners of his lips twitched up ever so slightly. “But I’ve grown too accustomed to you, it seems… It’s possible I even missed you.”

Quite a bit of my summer thus far had been dedicated to thinking about him. I revisited our past interactions frequently, wondering what he thought of me then and now, trying to pinpoint when feelings had arisen on my side, and what exactly those feelings were. I never really shook the anxiety that came with my poor behavior in the spring and the fact that I thought we would never be reconciled.

He had come here though, forgiven me, admitted he missed me, and I couldn’t say a bloody thing in return. Did I articulate any one of the thousand thoughts that had occupied my mind which he well deserved to hear? Or even a fraction of how I cared about him? No. I smiled and blushed and cracked an egg on the bowl. Some Gryffindor. 

Later, he was talking about a trip with his parents when an opportunity to speak up occurred to me.

“Um,” I said, nervously churning my dough, “I thought I might offer, well, extend… I don’t know. You might have absolutely no interest. I totally understand if you don't want—”

“Go on, then,” he said with a grin.

“My cousin is marrying our friend Teddy Lupin. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but he’s a relation of yours? Your parents were cousins or something like that. Anyway, he expressed an interest in meeting you. He wants to interact with some of his family and he knows we’re,” I glanced at him with a syrupy smile, “ _friends_.”

Malfoy tensed, taken aback. Resting his hand on his temple, he exhaled. “Yeah, I, uh, am aware. I believe my great-aunt had something to do with his orphaning,” he said, darkly.

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t mean to make you go there. Don’t go there. Teddy is equally related to Bellatrix Lestrange.”

He avoided my eyes, his somber expression characteristic of the formidable shadow the Malfoy heritage tended to cast over him.

“Look,” I said, turning to my ingredients and trying to stay casual, “you’re free to decline, but Teddy is a fantastic guy and I think it’d be great. It’d probably do both of you some good to connect with family. That’s all.”

He twitched a little. “My family’s actions are the reason he grew up without parents. I don’t know that I can get over that… how could he?”

“Whatever experiences you’ve had facing your family’s past before… I know this won’t— knowing Teddy, this won’t be anything like that.” I said, in a tone that I hoped conveyed compassion.

As he stared at me intently, I watched a tiny crack form in the dark, defensive visage I had come to know well over the last six years. His eyebrows quivered, he blinked several times, and he couldn’t keep his hands still; they were running through his hair, on his temples, rubbing the back of his neck. “I,” he said, just above a whisper, “ _hate_ this part of myself, Rose. I can’t—” he stopped abruptly, clearly distressed. 

Not for the first time, I tried to imagine what it was like to carry the Malfoy baggage and mostly came up short. But I understood enough to feel touched that he was sharing this with me at all. Abandoning restraint, I moved around to the back of his chair and wrapped my arms around him. I may have had a sheltered, privileged upbringing, but I was raised by survivors of war, people who carried immense trauma. Having witnessed more than one breakdown, to imitate my Grandma Molly’s soothing technique was an overriding instinct. I felt him relax almost instantly and wondered if physical affection was rare in his household growing up.

Gently stroking his arms, I said softly, “You know, no one who knows you would _ever_ think you have any of… that in you. You’re a good man.” I pulled away, but stayed standing behind him, sparing us both the face-to-face. My hands were resting on his shoulders now and I gave a little squeeze and continued, “My mother was from a Muggle family and now she’s one of the most celebrated witches in all of wizardkind. My father grew up poor and overlooked, my Uncle Harry was an abused orphan, and look what they became. Point is, you can’t change where you come from, but you can have a say in how you want it to define you.”

He didn’t say anything, but he put his own hand on top of mine. Then he turned and met my eyes, looking up at me like a helpless child, “Would you come with?”

“Sure, of course,” I said giving his hand one last pat before walking back towards my mixing bowl. 

“So, we’re doing this?”

“Gryffindor up, mate,” I said with a playful smirk. “We’re doing this.”


End file.
